


The Roommate

by oneswhonever



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Barebacking, Biting, Bondage, Choking, Cock & Ball Torture, Cock Slapping, Dark, Depression, Face Slapping, Forced Orgasm, Forced Relationship, Guilt, Hair-pulling, Ice Play, M/M, Nipple Play, No Aftercare, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Groping, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Not Safe Sane and Consensual, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Out of Character, Rape, Roommates, Rough Sex, Roughness, Sadism, Scratching, Sensation Play, Sensory Deprivation, Sleep Deprivation, Sleep Groping, Sleep Sex, Smut, Spanking, Subdrop, Suicidal Thoughts, Wax Play, and super dark, im so sorry, septiplier is the main ship, the others are super minor, this is super kinky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2018-11-15 15:13:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11233632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneswhonever/pseuds/oneswhonever
Summary: Jack McLoughlin wants a normal college experience after the hectic life he's had all throughout high school. His new roommate, Mark Fischbach, is the farthest thing from normal you could be. He's obsessive, he's unhinged - and believes that Jack is everything he's ever needed in his life. His ways of showing this are...unconventional.





	1. House Party

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is going to be super dark and super angsty, so please heed the warnings as some may be potentially triggering. Chapter specific warnings will be put in the notes before chapters.

Jack was never one to get drunk. It just wasn't his thing. He didn't like the feeling (or lack thereof) of losing control over his body - it was an OCD thing. He liked to know his surroundings, who exactly he was next to. Maybe he was out of touch with his peers, but he found no joy in the shakiness, the dizziness, that came with getting plastered. Because he was Irish people just assumed that he could down drinks like there was tomorrow - which was true, actually, but he definitely preferred not to. No matter how well he handled his alcohol, he just didn't like to reach a point of being totally drunk.

That being said, he only ever drank in moderation. He knew his limits, and just how much his body could handle before rejecting alcoholic drinks. And when he reached that point, he never had a problem cutting himself off. He didn't need to be drunk to have a good time. He could spend the rest of the night drinking soda or water and be perfectly okay with that. Unlike the rest of his friends, he was fine without drinking.

That being said, however, he wasn't  _totally_ against the concept of drinking with his friends all night. It was just a rarity. He didn't prefer it, but he could make it exceptions - and the exception on this particular night was a celebration. It was his best friend's birthday party, and Felix was feeling particularly down. It was his first birthday away from home. Jack thought it was a little sappy, but he knew how important family was to Felix. His nineteenth birthday party was also his first birthday whilst in university, meaning it was an entirely different type of celebration. 

The night had started off as innocently as it could have, really. Once Jack finished his shift at the radio station (he had a paid internship as part of being a communications major, and it was the sweetest hookup ever), he took Felix to dinner. Toni's Pizza was a hidden gem within their college town, and they had discovered it in the summer during a campus tour - and it was now their favorite location ever, so it was only fitting that they go there. Felix was poking at his food a little bit, definitely down in the dumps. Jack had paid for their dinner, naturally, before taking Felix out to the car and driving the opposite direction from the campus. His friend had been curious, and was asking Jack  _where the hell are we going?_ every few minutes, but Jack assured him that this would be completely and totally worth the drive.

And at the beginning, it was.

PJ Liguori was the dean's son. Because of this, he escaped the rule of having to live on campus during his first year (which was the  _stupidest_ rule ever). His dad paid for him to live in a rented house on the outskirts of town. The place was nothing particularly special, pretty much just a two-story suburban home, but it was pretty damn secluded, which was perfect. It took little coaxing for Jack to convince PJ to help him throw the best surprise party in the world. 

PJ did not disappoint. It wasn't so much a surprise when they pulled in, because the place was jumping. Cars lined the streets and parked in the grass, and the music could be heard from inside. As soon as they pulled in Felix caught on, but he definitely wasn't upset by it. He looked at Jack, who offered him a cheeky smile, and smile right back - it reaching his eyes for the first time that night. It was the best feeling for Jack, doing things to make people happy. 

The moment they stepped into the house, Jack's eyes were watering. Smoke clouded the entrance way, even though the people there were very clearly trying to blow their smoke rings out the window. The house also stunk of skunk and rubber - the unmistakable scent of good California green. The music was cranked quite loud, but it was also low enough that you could hear the people next to you speaking. People all around were drinking, and already drunk. The house was already a mess, with solo cups and plates littering the floors. It wasn't necessarily what Jack had in mind for the night, but it was exactly the kind of thing that Felix liked. 

Already he was beginning to realize how different college parties were from those that they would attend in high school. PJ had removed the table from the dining room, and had replaced it with a proper beer pong table (in high school, beer pong was played  _on top_ of those nice mahogany tables). The fucker had even pulled in a keg, and Jack didn't care to know how he acquired it. Or all of the alcohol in the room, for that matter.

And there was a  _lot_ of alcohol. There were coolers set up around the room, and unopened bottles lining the island counter for the taking. There was a note taped on the fridge announcing that there was beer to be found within. PJ was found in the kitchen next to said fridge, his back turned to the rest of the party. As Jack and Felix approached, Jack noticed that he was making drinks - mixed drinks. He didn't know where his friend had acquired all of knowledge about alcohol, either.

"Hey!" Felix called, having to raise his voice a tad over the music that was making Jack's ears buzz. PJ turned around and grinned, throwing his arms around Felix and drawing him into a  _tight_ embrace. It didn't take a genius to know that PJ was already plastered. "Thanks so much for this, man! I know it was Jack's idea but - thanks for hosting, y'know?"

PJ gave him a hard clap on the back before pulling away to hug Jack as well - pulling him into his arms and knocking the wind right out of the smaller lad. "I'm soooo happy you came to me with this, man! It's been such a hit; look at all these people!"

Jack laughed, declining to speak as he patted PJ's back - an indication for the brunette to let go. When he did, he returned to his task. He was topping off a concoction of sprite and pineapple juice with a bottle labeled Malibu. Coconut rum, Jack gathered from reading the bottle. He had never heard of such a thing, but his knowledge of alcohol had never been extensive.

He gave the glass to Felix, before whipping up two more of the same thing. He handed one to Jack, who took it with slightly wavering hands. He wasn't nervous to drink, not by any means, and he knew before the party even started that it would be an event that night. He just wasn't thrilled on the idea of all three of them being intoxicated. He had always been rather protective of his friends, and he feared that if he was drunk, he wouldn't be able to look out for Felix. He doubted that his friend would get into any trouble, but he liked to take precautions. 

"To Felix!" PJ cheered, holding his glass out. Simultaneously, Jack and Felix clicked their glasses against it. "May tonight be the best birthday you have ever had, thanks to your handsomely charming host."

Jack rolled his eyes affectionately before throwing down the drink - it was a glass sized no more than four ounces; not a shot but not a full-sized cup, either. He liked to take these drinks in a stride, so that he wouldn't have to continue sipping at them throughout the course of the night. It stung, and in a quite unpleasant matter. He doubted that there was much alcohol content in the rum, but the taste itself wasn't ideal. Jack set down his empty glass on the counter, pulling a face as he opted for a can of soda to wash it down. 

"Don't be a bitch," said PJ, swallowing a mouthful of his own. Jack knew that, at PJ's current state, he probably couldn't even taste it. Some of the liquid was dribbling out of his mouth, down his lips and shirt. "Hardly any alcohol in that at all. Thought you were Irish."

"Obviously I am," Jack retorted, his lips pursing into a thin frown. Beside him, Felix was taking a swig directly from the bottle, his own glass empty. "I just don't plan on getting drunk tonight, is all."

PJ chuckled, beginning to whip up another mixed drink, swiping the bottle from the Swede. "Let's see how long that lasts."

 

***

 

It didn't last. Felix and PJ had Jack totally inebriated within the hour. 

It wasn't just them, either. People that Jack hardly even knew (acquaintances, but definitely not friends) were handing him drinks from every direction. He wasn't stupid - he knew not to take drinks from strangers. Every time someone handed him an unopened beer, however, he would take it. And if he saw someone open a bottle of liquor for the first time in front of him, he would take a shot. He never declined anything that someone tried to give him, and he chalked a lot of that up to peer pressure.

Felix wasn't forcing him to drink, not by any means. Jack's justification was that it was his best friend's birthday - and he just wanted to see him have a good time. If Jack was being a stick in the sand, that wasn't going to happen. He relented to drinking, the idea in his mind that he would just call him and Felix a cab later, and come back around in the morning to pick up his car. No matter how drunk he was, Jack would never get behind the wheel of his car whilst under the influence, for the risks simply weren't worth it. If need be, he would rather stay the night at PJ's and sleep on the couch rather than even attempt to get himself back on his own. 

Somewhere along the lines, Felix blacked out - somewhere between dancing with dream girl Marzia Bisognin and playing beer pong with Ken Morrison, he fell down and never got back up. Jack was right next to him when it happened, and even attempted to catch him, which just resulted in a prolonged struggle. While he attempted to keep himself upright, he hoisted up Felix by the underarms, and dragged him over to the sectional sofa. It was unoccupied at the moment, so with some effort, Jack picked him up and laid him down. Putting forth the effort made him a little nauseous, but he wasn't going to leave his friend there to go spill his guts, so he simply choked it back. He had taken care of Felix while drunk before, but never before had he totally blacked out, so to say that Jack was concerned would be a definite understatement.

There was no way he was getting Felix into a cab this way. And there was also no way that he was going to trust a total stranger while they were both in such a state of intoxication. If Felix had been awake, it would be a different story. Because he wasn't, however, Jack didn't want to risk it and put them both in a situation where they could be vulnerable. 

Instead, he called his roommate. 


	2. The Pick-up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess one warning I would have to say for this chapter is quite detailed descriptions of anxiety disorder/anxiety symptoms. I don't think it's too terribly severe, but it's a rather prominent section of this chapter, so maybe keep that in mind if you're sensitive to that sort of thing.

"I don't get it, Jack. One minute you swear off drinking - the next, you can't even stand up straight. What is the deal?"

The rule about having to live on campus as a freshman is what led Jack to meet Mark - who would be his roommate for the duration of the year. Upon enrollment, Jack hadn't necessarily been thrilled about the idea of having to room with a total stranger, and it was almost a deal-breaker for the school as a whole. However, he and Felix had a plan. Come sophomore year, when they were no longer obligated to live in the dorms, they would be moving into an apartment together close to campus. This compromise was enough for Jack to agree to toughing out the first year. 

That being said, the idea of sharing his personal space with a complete stranger was enough to make his skin crawl. Felix hadn't seemed to mind this idea, however - and in fact, thought it was a really good way for them to make new friends, which Jack found laughable. He especially found it laughable because Felix's roommate was nothing short of a  _freak._ Jack didn't think mental disorders were funny, not at all, but there was something  _really_ messed up about Phil Lester. Felix claimed it was just  _really_ bad anxiety, but Jack begged to differ. 

For starters, he was always pulling out his hair - which in itself was really scary, in Jack's eyes. More like disturbing, actually. He didn't understand how someone could just casually sit there and pull out their hair or eyebrows. Phil was also the  _worst_ nail biter of anyone Jack had ever seen, which was saying a lot. He could bite them right down to the flesh, and when he bit his cuticles, could tear down the skin on his finger and make them bleed. Jack would never say anything about it, of course, but he found it to be at least a little worrisome. 

Felix also said that Phil suffered from some pretty intense "night terrors." Beyond some mildly disturbing nightmares, Jack had never experienced something quite like that, but Felix said that it wasn't quite as bad as he made it out to be sometimes. Phil never spoke full sentences in his sleep, and rarely even said anything at all, but the noises that he made were less than pleasant. Apparently on their first night sleeping in the dorms, Felix was awoke by ear-shattering screams that nearly made him piss himself. Jack was the type who would have requested a new roommate at that point, but Felix wasn't. Besides being disturbed from his own slumber sometimes, he didn't actually seem to mind a whole lot. In fact, he had said that when Phil was in a totally conscious state of mind, he was actually a really good friend. Jack didn't doubt that, but he felt bad that he couldn't handle this  _anxiety_ enough to consider Phil a proper friend. 

He liked to think that he had the better roommate. 

He probably liked Mark Fischbach from the get-go solely for his good looks. He was  _more_ than good looks, obviously, but he certainly gave off a good impression from the moment they met. He wasn't a whole lot taller than Jack, maybe two inches at most. However, he was a lot more thick and muscular - getting in on a football scholarship spoke for itself in that regard. That being said, a lot of his weight was pure muscle. Mark ate like a horse and would eat anything you set in front of him, but he spent copious amounts of time in the gym or otherwise working out. He was the only freshman in the starting lineup for the football team, and deservedly so. Jack knew very little about sports, but he could see that Mark was fantastic. 

Mark had a really appealing face, as well. His skin, moderately tan, was clear and smooth - with zero imperfections to think of. He had very warm brown eyes, and Jack could swear that they turned golden in the sunlight. He had quite plush lips that could form a perfect pout if they wanted to. Everything about his face was so warm and soft - you didn't have to be gay to admit that Mark was good looking. 

Even with all of that being said, Mark wasn't the friendliest guy in the world. He wasn't an asshole by any means - Jack had definitely met worse people in his life. It's just that Mark was rather stoic, and didn't seem to take very kindly to new people. He didn't do a whole lot of talking. He hardly spoke to Felix when he came around to visit, and he never once breathed a word to Phil when they met. He didn't talk to Jack a whole lot either beyond greetings or saying goodnight. They would probably never be genuine friends, but Jack was okay with that. He was in school to learn - not to make friends.

Mark sure did do a whole lot of staring, though. There were times when his eyes would land on Jack, and he wouldn't even blink or tear his gaze away. He would seem to be in trance during these times, and it was a little intimidating. Speaking to him would always pull him out of it, and he would say that he had just zoned out. Jack would never press him on it.

Still, Mark was pretty much the only person he was able to call. The only other people that Jack knew around campus were at the park, drunk off their asses. Mark may not be the friendliest person, but hell if he wasn't reliable. 

"I don't drink," Jack clarified, though he doubted that he sounded all that convincing. He was sitting in the backseat of Mark's Camry, Felix's head resting in his lap. The blonde was still unconscious, and Jack was threading his fingers through his mess of hair, feeling dizzy. "Hardly ever. I like to be in control. But - it was a party, man. It's Felix's birthday."

In the rear view mirror, Jack could see as Mark's eyebrows furrowed together, a frown plastered on his face. "Okay, then. You're kind of contradicting yourself here, buddy. If you don't like losing control, why'd you drink? What do you expect is going to happen?"

"I don't know!" exclaimed Jack loudly, followed by a hiccup that hurt his chest. "You never know what can happen to you when you're drunk!"

Mark was still frowning as he pulled into his designated parking spot, killed the engine, and got out of the car. Before Jack could even manage to unbuckle his seat belt, Mark was opening his door, and hoisting Felix into his arms. In Jack's drunken stupor, he stared at Mark's arms - well defined whilst wearing his tight black shirt. 

"I'll carry him to his dorm," Mark murmured, shifting his weight to support Felix's limp body. "You gonna make it back okay?"

Jack absently nodded his head, still staring at Mark as he turned around and began walking towards the building. Only when he was out of sight did Jack snap out of it, shaking his head and unbuckling himself from the car. 

He couldn't wait to get in the dorm and crash. 


	3. ImSleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, oh my god. The amount of views on this story so far have actually been unbelievable, so thank you loads for that. Bear in mind while reading this chapter that this is superrrrr alternate universe, and with that in mind, there are events (such as Mark moving to Ohio, his dad's death, and the entire being of the character that is Mark's mother, who I assume is a very good mother in real life and I apologize for the way I depict her here) that are not necessarily in correlation with what happened in real life. This is intentional and aids in the story. 
> 
> This is the first chapter where anything even remotely sexy/interesting happens. With that being said, the chapter specific warnings are as follows:
> 
> Non-consensual sleep groping. That's about it on that front. There's also a warning for past child abuse, attempted murder of a child, and suicide - that comes with a description of a corpse. 
> 
> Happy reading!

Mark Fischbach was used to getting what he wanted, and when he wanted it. Perks of being a spoiled brat, he supposed. 

Mark came from a very wealthy family that hailed from Honolulu. They lived there until he was five years old, when his dad died of pneumonia. Mark was really young at the time, so with little knowledge as to what was going on around him, he was mostly unaffected by the situation. Even as he grew older, he couldn't find it in him to be all that sad. Even when his father was alive, they never had a particularly strong relationship - he was always working, or otherwise running around. He didn't spend much time at home, so Mark was definitely closer to his mother. Even as a toddler he would cling onto her for dear life, and he loved her more and more as he got older. 

That being said, Mark's mother did not take the death of her husband well. She whisked her and Mark as far away from Hawaii as they could get, which his how they winded up in Ohio. 

Mark hated it. Cincinnati was, in his opinion, one of the _worst_ places that they could have moved to. Though populated, the city was full of people that Mark could never give a rat's ass about. He would throw fits, day in and day out, about how much he didn't want to live there. He missed Hawaii - he missed the beaches and the warm weather.  He hated the cold, the snow, the ice. He would cry and tell his mother that he  _hated_ her for making them move there. But she swore off ever going back to Honolulu, and every time that she would reiterate, Mark only retaliated. 

When he was ten, she tried to drown him in the bathtub. Some people liked to think that Mark had just dreamed this - claiming that it seemed far-fetched given the circumstances that their family had faced. He knew he didn't dream it - back then, his mind wasn't quite so fucked up. He very clearly remembered her picking the lock on the bathroom door and the absolutely dead stare in her eyes as she approached. Manicured nails dug hard into his shoulders, and pushed him under. 

Now, struggle as he may, he was only a child. He very well could not fend off a thirty-some year old woman. His struggles grew more and more futile as he sucked nothing but water into his lungs. He couldn't breathe and within the span of what felt like hours (which was less than two minutes at the most, honestly), he could see lights flashing in his vision. He was released then, and it was instinctive that his body bobbed back up to the surface of the tub. 

He coughed up water out of his lungs, every breath turning into a rattling wheeze. His vision was a hazy blur - and the fact that his glasses were on the sink counter certainly didn't help his circumstance. As he was coming to, he heard a loud bang from not too terribly far away. He wasn't sure on what it was (the neighbors in the complex upstairs who had very noisy teenage sons, probably), but it certainly wasn't his main focus at the time being. It had occurred to him somewhere in the midst of the whole episode that he could have died, and that very thought was resonating in his mind as he reached into the water and pulled the plug from the drain, watching as the water swirled down. Only then did he feel like he had control over his breathing.

He pushed himself out of the bathtub, his whole body shaking in such a manner that felt like vibrations. He dripped water onto the floor - droplets falling from his hair and his naked body. Normally his mother would bring his clothes into the washroom after a bath, but Mark had a feeling she wouldn't be this time. He took a large, plush towel from underneath the sink, and wrapped it around his waist - hoping to cover the bottom half of his body. He was still dripping water onto the floor as he stepped out into the hallway. He knew water would ruin the wood floors, his mother had told him that several times, but he had undeniably more important matters on his mind.

At that moment, nothing was more important than seeing his mother laying dead on the floor. A gun, the silver revolver that she slept with (for security purposes, thought it was considerably unnecessary), was clattered to the floor, inches from her right hand. Mark could see the wound, in her right temple - a steady stream of blood dribbling down the side of her head and contributing to the growing pool. Behind her, the previously white wall was splattered with blood.

The only thing Mark could think to do was call 911. He knew she was dead; knew she had killed herself. He was young, but he knew exactly what he saw. 

Yet, somehow, Mark was unaffected. He didn't shed one tear for his mother, and vehemently protested going to her funeral. His foster dad at the group home thought it was imperative that Mark went - that it would help to begin the healing process. Mark didn't feel like there needed to be a healing process, though; he was not saddened by his mother's death. While she was alive, he loved her. He believed that the attempted drowning is what made him resent her. When he bit his pseudo-father hard enough to draw blood, they came to a decision that maybe it was a bad idea for Mark to go to the funeral, after all. 

He dreamed about the corpse a lot. Almost every night until he turned eleven, as a matter of fact. That's when he was plucked from the group home and adopted into the Sullivan family. He never called them mom and dad - he referred to them only as John and Maya. 

John was a chef at a very chic, modern restaurant in downtown Cincinnati. It brought in a lot of money - so much so that they could afford a beautiful high rise apartment in the heart of the city. The income that John brought in made it so that Maya didn't have to work, so she stayed at home and took care of Mark, to some extent. Due to his biological mother's mental issues, Mark had pretty much grown used to taking care of himself, and there wasn't a whole lot he couldn't do for himself. That being said, he just spent a lot of time by himself, while Maya locked herself away in the study - hoping to become the next big author. Mark didn't have a very strong connection with either one of them, but he could see that they were really trying to build a good life for him. He supposed he had to appreciate it on some level, and especially because they were perfectly okay with sending him to a private school.

Mark had never been to a public school in his life, pre-college. His family, past or present, always had the money for the nice private schools, which Mark needed. He was never diagnosed with a proper learning disability, but especially after his mother's death, he found it hard to concentrate on his learning. The individualized attention and small class sizes were a lifesaver. He always got perfect grades, and as per a deal with John - the Sullivans agreed to pay for Mark's college.

He had never believed that they truly cared about him. Maya couldn't get pregnant, so they adopted him in the hopes that he'd be successful. He was, and he was rewarded for it handsomely. He got everything he ever wanted. 

Going to college and meeting Sean McLoughlin was absolutely surreal for this very reason. It was very evident that he came from a different walk of life - Mark knew that the second he laid eyes on his roommate.

He preferred going by Jack - this was one of the first things he said. He never said why, and Mark didn't care to ask; he assumed it was for a personal reason, and he didn't care to know Jack quite on that level. He had green hair (like, bright green) and dressed in all black. His arms were covered in black ink. He always had earbuds in, blasting music loud enough that Mark could hear it. He was very quiet, but so was Mark. They rarely ever spoke to one another, but Jack was quite exuberant around his own little clique of friends - Mark couldn't stand any of them, honestly. 

Jack, on the other hand, was someone that Mark found absolutely fascinating. For no particular reason, he was entirely drawn to Jack. It said a lot, actually, how much he longed to kiss Jack. Why he longed to literally tear him apart and fuck him raw. It was a big deal, seeing as Mark had never been even remotely interested in anyone else in his entire life. Whether sexually or romantically.

Which is why he couldn't stop himself for leaning over and groping Jack through his jeans. Seeing him splayed out on the couch, absolutely dead to the world and so vulnerable, Mark couldn't help himself. Massaging Jack's cock through his jeans was going to have to do for the moment, but Mark was silently making a plan.

Like it or not, Jack would be his sooner rather than later. 


	4. I Woke Up Like This

Jack's awakening was confusing, if anything.

For some reason, he had very little recollection of everything that had happened the previous night. He could smell alcohol, but it was a very faint smell that still clung to his damp hair (the smell triggered a memory of Felix spilling it all the way down his back, making his shirt stick to his skin). Obviously alcohol had been involved. He remembered that it been Felix's party at PJ's house. He remembered the way the blonde had tripped down a flight of stairs, thrown up, and promptly passed out. He remembered having no clue what to do, other than to get Felix home. He had called Mark. 

In hindsight, he realized he probably should have taken his friend to the hospital, but it was a thought that had never even crossed his mind. With the dull headache beginning to form in the back of Jack's skull, accompanied by nausea burning in his throat, it was safe to assume that he was totally hungover. It was no surprise, but he was disappointed. He drank himself to the point of forgetting everything, and in the process, probably endangered his best friend. He should probably call Felix, he reckoned.

That was the first time since waking up that he so much as opened his eyes. With a long, deep groan, he shut them just as soon. The sun was up and showing its' ugly self through the open curtains. Jack normally loved the sunshine, but it was burning his eyes and aggravating his headache. He buried his head underneath his blanket, blocking out the world around him before willing himself to open his eyes again. Blindly, he felt around on his mattress for his phone, panic sinking into the pit of his stomach when he couldn't find it. Normally, he fell asleep with it right beside his head, but it wasn't there.

That's when it set in that Mark probably carried him to bed. The last thing Jack remembered before passing out was toppling onto the couch, face first into the cushions. Now, he was definitely in his bed and had woken up under the covers. A warm feeling coated his stomach. He patted around, musing that his phone was probably stuffed into one of his pockets.

Maybe if he were wearing pants, that might actually be the case. To Jack's surprise, he was currently adorned only in tight-fit boxers. He gaped, and kicked his blankets off of his body, watching (nearly blinded by the sun) as they crumpled near his feet. He blinked his eyes a few times, blinking out the sleepy tears, before he was able to keep them open - no matter how dry they felt. Glancing down at his lean figure, he realized that he was also missing his shirt. He couldn't remember exactly, but he was certain that he wore a Muse shirt to the party. It was one of his favorites, and even though it was black and wouldn't show a stain, Jack hated to think that it too probably still reeked. He also hated to think that there was a possibility that he might've lost it. He didn't want to think of what kind of event could have made him lose an article of clothing. 

He especially hated to think that, if anything  _had_ happened, he definitely couldn't remember it.

Upon further inspection of his current situation, Jack noticed a stain on the front of his black boxers. His throat swelled upon realization that it was, without a doubt, cum. This only made his anxiety even worse, coming to a conclusion that sex could have very well happened. Either that, or someone had touched him without his knowing. The latter was actually much more unlikely, but very unsettling. He doubted that he would be able to find out what had happened - he had been with Felix for a good portion of the night, and he doubted his friend was in good condition.

That thought snapped him back to reality, and the matter at hand. Jack finally left his bed, and made quick work of shedding his boxers. They fell to the floor in a heap around his feet that he was quick to step out of, kicking them to an obscure corner of the room. He made even quicker work, however, of dressing himself fully. Clothed in a loose fitting white shirt, and grey sweats that could leave plenty to the imagination, Jack stepped out of his bedroom. The smell of bacon hit his nose suddenly, but it only made his stomach twist in protest, the nausea boiling up again.

Mark was standing in front of the stove, clearly freshly showered with his hair styled and fully dressed. He smiled at Jack upon his entrance to the room. "How's it going, man? Hungry?"

Jack frowned, having expected a lecture from his roommate by now. "Um...not necessarily, actually." He paused, fetching a bottle of water from the ridge before sitting at the island, his arms folded over one another. "...Mark, do you have any idea of what happened last night? Beyond picking us up, I'm having a hard time remembering everything."

"Um..." Mark murmured, removing the pan from the stove and shoveling his food onto a plate, leaving a few strips in the pan (for Jack if he decided he wanted it later). He also had two pieces of toast sitting on the plate, and a freshly brewed pot of coffee waiting for him, which he poured into a mug as he spoke. "Not really, actually. Just that you and Felix were both really drunk. Like, beyond drunk." He paused, and removed a phone from his pocket - the familiar white case signifying that it belonged to Jack. He slid it over the counter towards him. "Didn't want you losing that last night."

"Thanks," said Jack, though his lips were pursed into a tight frown. "I guess. Have you heard from Felix at all? Is he okay?"

"He's been texting you. So I assume he's okay. Not dead at least."

"...You just left him there? Like, totally by himself, not knowing if he had like...alcohol poisoning, or something? He didn't seem like he was hurt, did he?"

Mark laughed, and for a moment, his face was almost soft. "Jack, I know what kind of shit to look for, I promise. I didn't just leave him there to fend for himself, either. His roommate was around."

Though Jack was relieved for Felix, he couldn't shake off the unsettling feeling. He couldn't help but feel like something bad had happened, and he had absolutely nothing to show for it. He had nothing to either confirm or debunk his fears. 

He would have to get a hold of Felix, he decided - which he was dreading already. 


	5. I Woke Up Like Shit

"Thanks a lot for taking care of him, man. He wasn't in such a good place last night. We were drinking a lot and...I probably let it get out of hand. I should have taken him to the hospital when he fell, but I couldn't even walk in a straight line. I'm sorry that Mark just...pushed him onto you."

Phil Lester was the physical embodiment of anxiety, Jack thought. Everything he did, he just looked like a nervous wreck. He had been pacing while Jack was talking, and when he finally sat down, he was curled into himself on the sofa, teeth digging into the tender skin of his lower lip. Jack almost felt sorry for him. He couldn't even imagine how nervous he had been having to take care of Felix (when it seemed as though he could hardly even take care of himself).

"You're welcome, I guess," murmured Phil, his eyes darting around the room - looking at anything that wasn't Jack. It was no secret that he was intimidated by the younger boy. Jack had always been told that his appearance had a tendency of rubbing people the wrong way. The eyebrow piercing and arms covered with tattoos, accompanied by the green hair...he supposed he could understand. He just wished people could see beyond his hard exterior, because there was much more to him. "He wasn't that bad, though. He only woke up a few times and then was right back out."

Jack sighed, the ghost of a smile pulling up at the corners of his lips. "That's good. Sounds about normal for him. I owe you one, man."

Phil bit his lip hard, looking at Jack but not breathing so much as a word. Jack could never even guess what was going on up in that head of his, but he was glad he'd probably never known. He could only guess that Phil had a lot of personal issues in his life. That was a shame; Felix was right, Phil was actually a very kind person when you got past the buzzing exterior. 

"It's fine, Jack," Phil finally said, his hands clasped together in his lap - squeezing himself so tight that his knuckles were going white. Jack didn't like to think about what life would be like if you got nervous even  _talking_ to people. It sounded like a bad way to live. "I'm just...happy that he's safe."

Jack just nodded bleakly, his hands cupping a piping hot mug of coffee, that was far too strong for his liking. If there was one thing that he could say, it's that he felt like the constant coffee drinking probably wasn't doing Phil's anxiety disorder any favors. He would keep his mouth shut, though - he didn't know Phil like that.

"What are we talking about in here, ladies?" a voice from down the hall piped, and soon enough, Felix emerged into the living room. He looked like he had gotten hit by a train - he was wearing only his sweatpants from the previous night, and sweat made his hair stick to his face. He also really needed to shave, but that was nothing new. "Surprised an orgy hasn't broken out yet."

Jack had to credit Felix's crude sense of humor, even when the blonde was in the wake of a surely unpleasant hangover. "I don't know how to tell you this, but just the two of us couldn't have an orgy." He looked at Phil, but the black-haired lad wasn't smiling. If anything, he looked uncomfortable. Jack decided to drop the subject. "How are you feeling? Your head hurting?"

"What do you think, smartass?" Felix coined, helping himself to the pot of coffee. Both he and Phil drank it as black as could be. Jack could stomach what he had been given, but he didn't think it would kill them to add at least a bit of creamer. "Of course my head hurts. I'm hungover as hell."

"Fair enough," Jack murmured. He was growing impatient - he wanted to get to the main reason he had come over. He had wanted to check on his friend, yes, but he also wanted to know what exactly had gone down at the party. The more time that ticked by, the more unnerved he was becoming. If something bad had happened, he wanted to know about it. "But I mean, you took quite the spill. Fell down the bloody stairs near the end of the night."

"I did?"

All the hope that Felix knew something flew right out the window. If he couldn't remember nearly splitting his skull open on PJ's wooden floors, he wouldn't remember much of anything. He just hoped Felix wasn't concussed. That would be a whole new problem that they would have to deal with.

"Yes, you did," Jack sighed, growing increasingly annoyed, and without reason. "Do you not remember?"

He couldn't blame Felix for the lack of memory. He hit his head so hard on the floor that Jack was surprised there wasn't a bruise. He supposed he should be grateful that his friend wasn't seriously hurt. He was more annoyed at himself. If he hadn't gotten drunk, it wouldn't have been anybody's responsibility to keep track of what all happened that night. 

"Nope. Not a thing. That's what the alcohol is for, Jackaboy," said Felix, casual as ever. He sat down between Jack and Phil on the couch, setting his coffee down on the table. "Please tell me you didn't just linger in the corner like a moron. Parties are social, Jack."

"I didn't," Jack protested, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. Felix often regarded him as nothing more than a stick in the sand, which honestly wasn't far from the truth. However, it was for precisely this reason that Jack never liked to partake in these parties. When you were intoxicated, who's to say what could happen. "I got drunk with you. You're the moron, you know? You tripped over your own damn feet and Mark had to  _carry_ you in here."

"My knight in shining armor," Felix joked, leaning over and wrapping an arm around Phil's shoulders, gently jostling him. Phil tensed, but he didn't push Felix away. "Mark is single, you know. And if he could carry me when I'm a dead weight, shit. Those muscles speak for themselves, clearly."

"You've met Dan, Felix. I'm not interested."

Jack leaned forward, a smile on his face, suddenly  _very_ interested. "Dan? Who's Dan?"

"Phil's lover," Felix teased, causing Phil to leap up and swat at him, his cheeks flushing a vibrant red. "Oh, come on, I'm only teasing you! They're not lovers. Phil just pines from afar."

"Yes, very far," remarked Phil, picking up his cup of coffee and starting for his room. "You don't need to remind me, brat."

If anything was certain in this situation, it's that Jack was glad he had Felix around to keep him sane when he felt like he was going to lose it. His friend made him feel normal, which, especially now, was a very foreign feeling. 

As soon as he heard Phil's bedroom door latch shut, Felix turned to Jack with a shit-eating grin on his face. "So, must have been some party, if you actually partook for once."

"I don't remember much of the party," Jack said, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. Felix's eyebrows furrowed together. "You were drinking a lot. So was PJ. So I mean...I wanted to drink with you guys. It was your birthday, man. And, seriously, I got really drunk. I hardly remember anything."

Felix looked at him, his eyes uncharacteristically soft for once. He knew exactly how drinking made Jack feel. He knew that the Irishman had a hard time controlling himself when he got drunk, and how he really didn't like to feel as though he were out of control. Felix usually wasn't very understanding, but he never made Jack do anything that he wasn't comfortable with. Felix had far less inhibitions than Jack. He was far more willing to do things that Jack would never even consider. He never made him partake, so Jack rarely did. 

Of course, it was just his luck that the one time he decided to party with Felix, he couldn't remember a damn thing about it. 

"Those were all good people, Jack," said Felix, scooting over to lean against him. "I mean, we knew everybody in that room. Mostly. If not, PJ knew them all. No one there would do anything bad. It was a good time, a good party...no bad vibes."

Jack sighed, and leaned against Felix. He supposed his best friend was right. 

Surely there was no reason to worry. 


	6. Paper Planes

There had been several times in his life when Jack questioned his sexual orientation. Almost everyone he knew went through that phase, but it was much more deeply rooted than just  _considering_ the prospect of kissing another man. Frightening thoughts regarding who or what Jack could identify as consumed a lot of his life when he was young. 

It started when he was fifteen, and Felix was one of the very first people in their year to hit puberty. The two had known each other for years upon years, and Jack had never even considered his friend's attractiveness until he started filling out. Felix wasn't built for the gods, but he was developing a very lean figure and sprouting in height (he never got to be tall, exactly, but he definitely grew). Somehow the changes in his body made him stand out just that much farther from the rest of their peer group, to a degree where Jack even dared to call him handsome. He would kill for those blue eyes.

There were times when he considered,  _heavily_ considered, making a move on Felix - but for experimentation purposes only. Felix wasn't necessarily someone that Jack would date, even if he was gay. They had a very close friendship, always had, and Jack could never view him in a romantic light. Ever. They ragged on each other too much; had too much dirt on one another for a relationship to ever work out. That being said, Jack didn't see the harm in having a few thoughts about what it would be like to just  _kiss_ him.

He never did. He thought about it plenty, but he would never do it. Whenever he got close, whenever it crossed his mind, he would always talk himself out of it. Felix was an incredible friend, the kind of best friend that some people weren't lucky enough to have, and Jack wasn't about to do anything to jeopardize that. Besides that, he could say with certainty that Felix wasn't even gay. Probably not even bi, actually. He talked Jack's ear off about women and boobs, which was unfair, because Jack wasn't really interested in all that. He didn't know why, but whenever one of his friends would start talking about girls, he was quick to lose interest. 

He jacked off to the thought of his best friend once, and only then did he begin to wonder what he had ever done to deserve Felix Kjellberg. He was both a blessing and a curse, it appeared. Even if Jack would never date him, he knew he would very willingly do other things if given the opportunity. 

Of course the opportunity never presented itself, so Jack was always left to wonder. There was actually very little left to the imagination seeing as Jack knew every inch and of Felix's body at this point. That was all coincidental actually; you couldn't be friends with someone for that long without accidentally seeing too much. Jack found out, despairingly, that Felix was attractive all over. 

Jack never _actually_ explored his sexuality while in high school. As a matter of fact, by the time they graduated, he was actually still a virgin (he knew Felix was as well, which made him feel a tad bit better). The farthest he had ever gone was with a girl called Ariel when they shared physics. She gave him a blow job once while they were working at Jack's house, and it had certainly done the trick. He wrote off the idea of being gay for awhile, until dickhead Ken Morrison had to go ahead and bring it up at the lunch table and say, "Anyone can be attracted to anyone so long as they push the right buttons." That made a terrible amount of sense, so Jack was right back to questioning. 

He told his closest confidant about these issues - his closest confidant besides Felix that is, because the blonde would do nothing but berate and make fun of the situation. However, Cry wasn't like that. He was actually incredibly intelligent (his acceptance letter into Columbia spoke for itself) and gave better advice than anyone Jack knew. And he didn't disappoint. He told Jack not to despair, that he was still young and that there was still loads of time for him to discover who he was, and that he didn't need to be in any sort of rush. He followed this up by pointing out that many people come to terms with themselves in college, and that there would be plenty of opportunities there for Jack to figure things out.

It had only been two months, but Jack was beginning to doubt that. He had no opportunities thus far to even  _touch_ a man (besides Mark, who was probably far too good looking to be gay; it was just Jack's luck that the attractive ones were always straight). He was beginning to grow impatient, and partially because college was literally nothing like he thought it would be. Instead of cute gay guys everywhere, Jack was getting drunk at parties and waking up with cum stains on his boxers. 

And again, he couldn't help but wonder what he had _ever_ done to deserve Felix, who seemed to be at the very center of a lot of Jack's problems. 

The first time Jack ever thought about kissing Mark, he knew he was fucked. He didn't want to spiral into the same funk with his roommate as he had with his best friend. He and Mark were  _not_ that close, and to ever even consider the idea of jerking off over the image of shirtless Mark Fischbach...no matter how delicious of a sight that might be, it made Jack feel dirty. It was all in his head, sure, but having these thoughts about Mark were getting to him, and he felt guilty for having them. He felt guilty for thinking about pushing Mark down on the couch and kissing him and sucking hickeys all over him and going even farther than that. 

And with all of that being said, Jack wasn't certain that he even liked guys. It was a twisted mentality, but he didn't think that having sexy thoughts about a man meant you automatically had to be gay. At least, he hoped not. The prospect of having sex with a man was strange. Jack could understand going as far as a blow job, but as far as actual sex went...he didn't think about that sort of thing and he never had. 

In Jack's mind, sex was a complicated thing. He wasn't about to do something so sacred with just anyone. He wasn't just going to throw himself at men and demand to be fucked. He thought that a sexual relationship had to be built upon mutual trust, love, and respect (for boundaries, that is). 

Which is why he couldn't let the night of the party slip his mind. The concept of someone having done something to him while he couldn't stop it was enough to make his skin crawl. No matter how much Felix tried to assure him that nothing was amiss, Jack couldn't seem to shake the thought. Whenever he thought about it, he felt sick to his stomach.

How could he want sex when there were people in the world capable of...

...whatever had happened?


	7. Strip Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The action you've been waiting for is here. 
> 
> Warnings for this chapter include non-consensual groping and bondage. No actual sex yet. Just a really poorly written hand job.

Jack's sleep was not a deep one and not a long one. Preoccupied with all of his thoughts, he knew as soon as his head hit the pillow that his sleep was not going to be a peaceful one, and he had been right. He had been asleep for a grand total of thirty minutes before he felt heavy all over, the feeling being just enough to pull him from his slumber. All at once he was hit with a wave of confusion and terror, especially when a warm, large hand clamped over his mouth - pressing him down  _hard._

It was then that Jack's eyes flew open, very alert and now  _very_ awake. He couldn't see a damn thing, for his eyes had not adjusted to the complete darkness of the room. Nonetheless, his body was completely responsive to the situation, and his hands flew up immediately - nails beginning to dig into the arm of the unknown person who  _dared_ barge into Jack's room and scare the living fuck out of him. Real danger was at the back of his mind, however, for the dorms were as secure as could be, and the only people who could get into his room were Mark and Felix. His immediate thought was that someone was messing with him, pulling some kind of joke, but he didn't think it was funny whatsoever. After he  _maybe_ got touched at the party, Jack was on high alert of all things going on around him, and especially  _this._ He knew better than to think Mark or Felix meant him any harm, but the rational part of his brain was permanently malfunctioning as of lately.

He didn't get very far in his endeavors, for the assailant's opposite hand effortlessly wrapped around the both of Jack's wrists and held them tightly, which is when Jack really began to panic. The idea of this being a  _joke_ was beginning to seem less likely, as the person holding him down was  _strong._ Off the bat, he knew it couldn't be Felix - the blonde was strong, but most definitely not strong enough to be able to effectively hold someone down like this. Jack struggled, if only for a moment, his body silently thrashing against the hold in an attempt to regain control of himself. His struggles were in vain, however, as a body part that felt like a knee began to crush his balls, effectively pinning down his legs. Jack howled in pain, but it came out as nothing more than a muffled, prolonged protest. He bit down as hard as he possibly could on the hand over his mouth, but it was a considerably awkward angle so he didn't get very far - the pressure wouldn't let up. 

"If I move my hand, you're going to be quiet," a voice whispered, harsh as ever, smokey breath suddenly very close to Jack's nose. Suddenly all the color was fading from Jack's face as the familiarity of the voice caused his ears to ring. "Jack. Are you going to be quiet?"

Jack blinked heavily, before solemnly nodding his head - only to open his mouth just as soon as he could. " _Mark what in the fuck do you think you are doing you scared the FUCK out of me!_ "

Mark was close - apart from being literally on top of Jack, he could feel the older boy's breath hitting him in the face with each exhale. With both hands now free, he seized either one of Jack's wrist in either hand, pinning them to the bed on either side of Jack's head, on top of his mess of pillows. He never moved his knee, which was still digging into Jack's crotch - effectively crushing his balls and his pelvis. 

"Don't have to be scared of me, princess," Mark murmured, and his lips just barely grazed Jack's as he spoke - but they brushed nonetheless, and Jack couldn't even recoil. He could feel his heart skipping beats in his chest, and it took all of his willpower not to spit right in Mark's face. Curious as he may be about himself and his sexuality, that didn't mean he was okay with all of this contact. "Just settle down, yeah? You know I'm gonna take care of you. I always do."

Jack  _did_ spit in his face, then; gathering up all the phlegm he could. He couldn't see where it landed, and he couldn't see Mark's reaction, but his grip definitely tightened. "Fuck's sake! Let  _go._ "

There was suddenly a loud cracking sound that Jack definitely heard before he could recognize that he had been slapped. His head snapped to the side, irritated cheek blossoming bright red, and all he could do was gape. He knew Mark was strong, he had always been aware of that, but he hadn't really realized just  _how_ strong he was until just now. 

"I don't have to," Mark snarled, his voice taking on a surprisingly dark tone that Jack didn't even know he was capable of. It sent shivers racing up and down his spin, sharp as a razor. "I don't have to do anything you tell me to, as a matter of fact. You're not in any fucking position to argue with me, in case you can't tell." Jack couldn't necessarily argue with that; Mark had him pinned down with no possible way of wriggling away, and was clearly not afraid to hurt him. "I'd suggest you listen to me, Jack. You owe it to me."

 _I don't owe you shit, actually._ Jack managed to bite back the sour comment that lingered on the tip of his tongue, for he didn't want Mark to hit him again. He was beginning to figure that the other man had much worse in store, but he was trying his hardest to just not think about it. Maybe this was just Mark's fucked up way of trying to establish some sort of dominance, or come onto him in some way. If this was a weird way of flirting, or trying to get into his pants, Jack wasn't having any of it. He wasn't into any of this freaky shit that Mark was currently trying to pull. 

A terrifying thought dawned on Jack, and his eyes narrowed, suddenly unable to bite back  _anything._ "...When me and Felix got drunk...Mark what the  _fuck_ did you do?!"

Taking both of Jack's wrist in one hand again, Mark leaned over just enough so that he could turn on the lamp on Jack's bedside - causing Jack to let out a prolonged sound that was a cross of arousal and pain. He hated that the way Mark was kneeling on his sack and moving around felt good, but in a  _really_ fucked up way. It hurt more than anything, but Jack couldn't deny the warmth that was coating his belly. He didn't like what Mark was doing, but his body certainly did.

Jack assessed the situation when his eyes finally adjusted to the light. Mark was wearing what he normally wore as pajamas - a tight fitting pair of boxers and a loose fitting shirt. Jack was trying his hardest not to look, to not express any form of interest, but he could definitely tell that there was a bulge in Mark's underwear. He was  _hard_ and actually getting some sort of sexual thrill from their current situation. A dirty smirk was on his face, a look that Jack had definitely never seen on him before.

"I didn't fuck you, if that's what you're referring to."

"No fucking shit you didn't," Jack huffed, yanking hard in an attempt to pull his arms out of Mark's grasp, but he was unsuccessful, which was no real surprise. He suddenly felt as though he would throw up, his anxiety for the situation only blossoming. "I would know it if you had. But what the fuck did you  _do?_ I was drunk, Mark. Fucking unconscious and... _what the fuck did you do to me?!_ "

Mark only seemed to find it amusing that Jack was beginning to get worked up, and he chuckled. "Well, you definitely enjoyed it...and by the feel of things down here, you still do. So I'm not understanding what the problem is here."

"The  _problem_ is that it's fucking molestation, Mark!" Jack growled. He was tempted to buck up his hips, to get Mark  _off,_ but he knew that this would only disturb his already aching genitals - which were currently feeling ready to burst because of all of the pain. "You fucking touched me while I slept?! You're fucking disgusting! Get off!"

"I'd rather get  _you_ off."

Mark leaned over again, and this time procured an object from Jack's bedside table. It turned out to be a set of handcuffs; not the nice furry or padded ones that they used in porn, but  _real_ metal handcuffs. Jack had been so focused on Mark ever since he turned the lights on that he hadn't even noticed that they were there. Briefly, he tilted his head to look over at the nightstand, and gaped at what he found. Jack knew plenty about sex and toys from videos, but never in his life had he seen anything in person. He knew exactly what he was looking at - a plastic ball gag with holes in it, a butt plug (which was quite tapered, but with a flared base; probably plastic material, bright pink), and a small, heart-shaped tube of lubricant. 

"You're fucking insane, Mark," said Jack, and his voice came out much weaker than he had anticipated. He was embarrassed, not only by his tone but by the situation as a whole, now that he had a pretty good idea of what Mark was intending to do. "You better fucking let me go right now. Don't even think I won't fucking tell anybody about what you're doing."

Mark laughed, and shifted position so that his legs, bent at the knee, were on either side of Jack. He let go of his wrists just long enough to turn the smaller boy onto his stomach (not before gawking at Jack's erection), but promptly seized them again, behind his back this time. Jack twisted and turned, but they both knew he wasn't going anywhere. In one swift movement, Mark snapped the cuffs on - tightening them as far as he could without cutting off circulation; he was a sadist, but he didn't want Jack's fingers turning blue in the middle of everything. 

When he had the cuffs secured, he flipped Jack back over so that he was laying on his cuffed hands, the material digging into his tender skin. He shifted his own position as well, moving up so that he was sitting on Jack's stomach, just above his waist so that he wasn't disrupting his erection. He looked into Jack's eyes for a moment, and for the first time was able to recognize a look of true fear. 

He put his hands on either side of Jack's face, in spite of his protests. "You're not gonna breathe a damn word about this, princess. I could go on and on _and on_ about why you won't. I can spare you the details for now, in case you happen to need the convincing later. I'd suggest to just relax for the time being, hmmm?"

Jack didn't speak after that, and Mark took this as a sign of submission (when, really, it was just one of anger and agitation). He scooted down, purposely dragging his ass right across Jack's cock and balls, so that he could sit on his legs instead, ending up perched on his knees. His hands went for the waistband of Jack's sweatpants, and even though the Irishman tried to protest, Mark tugged them down - seeing Jack's cock spring to life.

"Naughty Jack," he murmured, flicking the tip of Jack's cock - causing the younger boy to let out a noise that sounded almost like a whimper. "You go commando just for me, baby? 'Course not." He grinned, and his hand wrapped around the base. "You wanna know what I did to you, Jack, hmmm? I'm better at showing than I am at telling. Maybe if you're good I'll let you do me next."

Jack's heart throbbed hard in his chest as Mark began to move his hand - up and down, up and down. Besides his own hand doing the work, Jack had never been touched like this (when he was conscious, anyhow), and it was a more foreign feeling than he thought it might be. He could feel tears begin to brew behind his eyes. He wasn't necessarily in pain anymore, besides laying on the handcuffs, but he felt humiliated. Here he was, totally on display for Mark, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

No part of it was any sort of arousing anymore. He began to choke, "Mark, I dunno why you're doing this but can't we fucking  _talk,_ man? I don't...I've never...I don't wanna do any of this."

"Too bad," Mark grinned, giving Jack's cock a particularly hard squeeze that made him gasp in response. "I do. So you better just suck it up, dollface, because there's much more I've got for ya."

The first of many tears began to roll down Jack's cheeks, and he tried in vain to continue to reason. "Come on, Mark. Please. I thought we were friends, and I don't...I don't wanna do this."

The smile faded from Mark's face, and for a very brief second, Jack thought he had gotten through to him. This didn't last long, though, and Mark's expression was quick to morph into one of anger. He let go of Jack, but only to lean over for a third time and procure the gag. He brought it up to Jack's lips, but Jack wasn't about to let him put it in. His lips pursed together tightly, he shook his head hard, the tears dripping off his cheeks and down his neck. Mark didn't care for the protests, though - he took Jack's nose and plugged it shut between his thumb and pointed finger, squeezing his nose shut so that he couldn't breathe. Jack knew what he was trying to do - cut off his breathing so he was forced to open his mouth and take the gag. He wanted to try and hold his breath, to not accept defeat that easily, but his heart was beginning to pound, terrified of not being able to breathe. 

He opened his mouth after about twenty seconds, deciding it was better to just give in. Mark pushed the gag in and yanked Jack's head forward by the hair so he could secure it at the back, buckling it as far as he could so that it would be tightly in place. He pushed Jack's head back down, but grabbed him by his cheeks and got right up into his face.

"Listen, Jack," his voice was quiet, but definitely not calm. He sounded angry, and it made the tears in Jack's eyes fall even faster, past his parted lips. "I don't give a fuck what you want to do. I want you and I intend to fucking take you. So shut the hell up and  _let me,_ because it'll be a lot fucking better for the both of us, I assure you."

He went back to the task at hand, going faster but also teasing the head of his cock at every opportunity, and because Jack was not used to doing this sort of thing, it took only a couple minutes of a quickly-paced hand job to make him cum. He cried as he released, embarrassed that his body would betray him in this way. He hoped that Mark would leave after making him cum, take the cuffs off and let Jack go to sleep (sleep was the only thing on his mind after the orgasm, exhausted by his own humiliation).

Of course, he was out of luck. 


	8. Flushed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, no actual sex in this chapter yet. But warnings for non-consensual basically everything - including bondage, touching, and fingering.

It was hard for Jack to pinpoint a specific emotion to describe exactly how he was feeling when Mark just would  _not_ let go of him. He wished he could say that it ended at fear, or anger, but it didn't. It went a lot farther than that. 

Part of it was arousal, which was absolutely sickening. If he could feel anything else, Jack would be grateful, but no. He was warm everywhere, his skin flushed a bright red color. Of course he had an orgasm when Mark was touching him, and he knew that was just his body's natural way of responding. No matter how much Jack didn't want to admit it, the touches felt good - Mark knew what he was doing and how to get a rise out of him. Jack had never been more turned on in his life, honestly. 

However, none of that negated the fact that he absolutely hated what was happening. He hated that he lost all of his control. He hated that he was in such a vulnerable position - especially when, after jerking him off, Mark insisted on further tying him down. Jack didn't care for the handcuffs, and he cared for them even less when Mark was securing them to the headboard. For a brief moment following that, Mark had disappeared from the room. Jack had feared that he was planning on just leaving him there for the night, which was actually preferable in comparison to everything else that had happened thus far. However, the brunette had returned two minutes later, with coils of rope dangling from his shoulder and down his back. He then proceeded to push Jack's legs apart, fully removing his sweats before tying his ankles to the bedposts, leaving his legs spread. Jack had never felt more exposed in his life, and he struggled against the ropes, attempting in vain to close his legs. This had only made Mark laugh.

"Don't bother, princess," he cooed, his fingertips grazing down Jack's bare chest, and over his nipples. Jack squirmed, that area of his body being particularly tender. Mark noticed, and took one of them between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing hard - causing Jack to yelp sharply, his back arching off the bed. Mark laughed again, but not before pushing his free hand down the front of his boxers, stroking himself. "This was such a good idea. Don't you think so?"

 _Absolutely not,_ Jack wanted to say, but the gag in his mouth was preventing any form of understandable communication. Though his body was undeniably responsive to Mark's endeavors, that didn't mean he wanted any of this. He was fearful and humiliated. However, he still had a leaking erection that just refused to go away. Mark was sitting on his crotch at this point, and teasingly grinding his ass right into Jack's cock. The Irishman couldn't shake the feeling of guilt; he knew that his reactions to stimulation were natural, but he also thought it was wrong to be experiencing any sort of pleasure from the touches that he definitely didn't want. 

Because Jack couldn't communicate with his words, he just shook his head - which had been his response to virtually everything Mark was asking him. Frequently Mark would ask him if a certain movement or a certain stroke felt good, and Jack always had to deny. His raging boner said otherwise, and Jack was feeling awfully betrayed by his own body. He wished he could better comprehend the true danger of the situation, but his mind was becoming cloudy. All he could focus on was Mark's ass grinding into him, and how much he wanted to cum. 

"You can't even act like you don't like this," Mark said, his voice heavy with desire, which Jack found disgusting. He wasn't inclined to believe that Mark held even an ounce of remorse for what he was doing. Again, Jack shook his head. "Come on, doll face. I've got ya. Gonna make you feel so damn good."

Jack didn't doubt that. That didn't mean he wanted Mark to keep going. The rational part of Jack's brain, which was battling his aching cock currently, was able to recognize this situation as dangerous and non-consensual, and he wished he could convey that message to the rest of his body. 

"Jack," Mark whispered, his voice suddenly taking on a very gentle tone. He had never been all that abrasive, but this was definitely a change in demeanor. "This could work out a lot better if you would be a nice boy, you know. I wouldn't have to keep you tied up. We could touch each other...I could actually kiss you. What do you think, princess? Would you like that?"

Jack shook his head, his fringe flopping into his face - his skin so sweaty that it caused his hair to stick to his forehead in loose ringlets. He wanted to be untied, he wanted Mark to take out the gag - but he definitely didn't want to submit. He didn't want Mark to think it was okay to touch him in any way, and he especially did not want to perform any sexual favors on him. Furthermore, kissing was a whole new level of intimacy, in Jack's mind. 

"Come on, baby," Mark murmured, and withdrew his cock from his boxers. If Jack's jaw could drop in that moment, it would have. Mark's cock was possibly the most manly appendage on his body - long and thick, with dark curly hair around the base. A lump formed in Jack's throat, and he couldn't tear his eyes away. "See, you like that, doll. You've gotta let me do this, Jack. You know I wouldn't hurt you."

Mark slid up, purposely dragging his ass over Jack's crotch and pelvis, before moving to sit on his chest. Jack could feel his breathing become slightly restricted - Mark was big and muscular, and the weight definitely wasn't helpful. He stared up at the brunette with big eyes, but Mark just smiled at him. He moved his hand up to Jack's hair, and ran a hand through it slowly, rubbing strands of it between his fingers. He stared at Jack as though he were a snack.

"You're so pretty, Jack. We need to cut this hair, though. It's getting a bit shaggy," Mark mused, before running his finger over Jack's top lip - his mouth was turning red due to the pressure caused by the gag. The roof of his mouth was getting scratched up by the holes in the gag (he supposed said holes were supposed to make it easier to breathe, but that was definitely not the case). "I'll make a deal with you, honey. I'll take this out if you suck me off. If you do it real nice, I'll even do you. How's that?"

Jack had no opportunity to respond to this, before Mark was reaching towards the back of his head, unbuckling the strap of the gag. He then massaged Jack's jaw slowly, working out the tense muscles to ease out the gag - which carried with it a long stream of drool, then dripping past Jack's lower lip and down his neck. He licked at his lips desperately, trying to gather up some saliva to wet the inside of his mouth, which had become dry over the past while. 

"You need some water, gorgeous?" Mark murmured, returning his hand to Jack's hair, fluffing it up. Jack, rendered unable to find his voice, groaned. "Use your words. Ask me nicely."

Jack didn't think Mark deserved any degree of kindness at this moment, but he definitely needed something to drink, so he decided to suck it up - at least for the moment. "Can I please have some water, Mark?"

Mark smiled, leaning in and pressing a tender, chaste kiss to Jack's forehead. Though Jack recoiled, Mark was already on his way out of the room. While he was gone, Jack took the opportunity to test his bonds. He knew there was no feasible way to break out of his handcuffs, unless he was able to somehow break the chain. The ropes were strict, with very little slack, and Jack wasn't certain that he could get out of them. Even if he could escape his bonds, he knew he wouldn't be escaping the dorm. Their shared space was small, and Mark was near the only exit. 

He leaned back, taking in slow, steady breaths in an attempt to calm himself. The struggle against the cold metal of the handcuffs was beginning to make his wrists red and raw - Mark had them very tight, and his fingertips were beginning to tingle. He knew he wouldn't be able to convince the older boy to take them off, though. He was lucky that Mark was even willing to take out the gag. Jack had thought, more than once, about calling out for help. He wasn't certain that anyone would hear it if he did, but he was certain that he would be in a lot of trouble with Mark - much more trouble than what was probably worth it. 

Mark returned with a plastic bottle of water, and cracked it open as he approached Jack. He slid one hand underneath the Irishman's head, lifting it up a slight. He used the other hand to bring the bottle to Jack's lips, tipping the bottle gently - enough to get a stream of water flowing, and into Jack's waiting mouth. The water was ice cold and refreshing, and Jack gratefully lapped it up, drinking roughly half the bottle before Mark pulled it away.

"There ya go, baby," Mark murmured, capping the water and putting it on the nightstand. Jack looked at him with wide eyes, like a deer caught in headlights. "I'll give you some more later, if you need it." He paused, and took a hold of his throbbing cock, resuming his stroking motions. Jack tried his hardest not to watch. "So horny, Jack. You're so pretty. So fucking pretty."

"Mark," Jack finally groaned, watching a smirk pull up at the corners of Mark's mouth. "Don't you think this has gone far enough? Please, let me go."

Mark shook his head, stroking his full length as he stared Jack dead in the eye. "I have no intentions of that, pumpkin. I told you before, I want to have a good time with you. Make you mine. Don't worry, though - I intend to make it just as good for you."

Jack shuddered, a shiver racing up and down his spine. "Mark, please. I'm not - I'm not having a good time. I don't want to do any of this, any of whatever you're planning on doing. Please just...let me go now, and we don't ever have to talk about this again. We can forget that this ever happened."

"You just don't get it, Jack," Mark whispered, his voice deep and low, sounding almost sad. He released his cock, before moving to sit on top of the bed, in between Jack's spread legs. He leaned over and grabbed the lube from the night stand, uncapping it with a soft popping sound. He squirted it out onto his middle and forefinger, the scent of what seemed to be grape filling the air quickly. "You know I'm not gonna hurt you. I don't see what's so bad about this. Gonna make you cum, make you feel good, make you feel loved...you don't have anything to worry about."

Jack watched Mark closely, his heart beginning to skip beats. Never in his life had he ever experienced insertion of any kind. He had masturbated before, plenty of times, but that was only ever jerking off. He never had anything in his ass - he had never even had a prostate exam. A lot of this was due to fear of insertion. The idea of any sort of foreign object in his ass (be it fingers or anything else) made him uncomfortable. 

"Mark," he pleaded, his voice cracking involuntarily. He felt weak. "Please don't do this. I've never...never done anything. I'm a virgin, and... _please_." 

Mark pressed his fingers right up against Jack's puckered entrance, the tips cold. Slowly, he eased in his forefinger, feeling Jack tighten around him. The younger boy's breath audibly hitched, and his body's natural response was to try and get the digit  _out._ He clenched, but this only made Mark more determined - he still went slow, but didn't hesitate in pushing his finger in up to the knuckle. Jack let out a prolonged cry, tears beginning to spring to his eyes and spilling over much faster than he wanted. 

"Baby, don't you want your first time to be with someone who cares about you?" Mark whispered, his free hand beginning to stroke Jack's quivering thigh. "Because I care about you, Jack. I want you to feel so damn good. Don't you want that, honey?" He curled his finger, causing Jack to yelp loudly, a strained groan also escaping his throat. "There ya go, sweet boy. Lemme hear it. You don't have to hold back anything. Daddy wants to hear it."

The use of that word made Jack's throat tighten. The whole situation was made much more unnerving by the way Mark was speaking to him. It would be different if he were being mean, or actually physically hurting Jack - by slapping or otherwise hitting him, or something to that affect. Instead, he was actually being caring, and he seemed to want Jack to feel good. That being said, however, Jack doubted Mark had good intentions. If he did, he wouldn't be doing all of this against his will.

"Stop, Mark," Jack pleaded, tasting his salty tears roll over his lips. In response, Mark's middle finger was also inserted, and Jack whined. He didn't understand what people found so good about anal sex, as at the moment, he was just uncomfortable. His ass was being stretched out in a way that he wasn't used to, and it was just hurting. He found the sensation of fullness to be uncomfortable. "Please, stop. Please. It doesn't feel good. It fucking hurts."

Mark kept his fingers inside Jack, but leaned up and licked at Jack's neck - where the beads of tears had begun to gather. While there, he nipped into the tender skin, causing Jack to gasp in response. He could feel Mark suck at his skin briefly, before pulling away to examine the small, purple and red hickey that he made. 

"Princess, don't cry," Mark whispered, his hot breath against Jack's neck. He pulled away to focus on his task at hand. "I promise I'll make it feel good. It doesn't always feel uncomfortable."

To prove his point, he curled his fingers against Jack's prostate - causing the younger boy's eyes to roll into the back of his head, the whites showing. Mark wasn't wrong; that motion definitely felt good, but that didn't necessarily mean Jack was okay with the situation. He was still uncomfortable, and still wished that he would wake up from this bad dream. He had never wanted to think poorly of Mark. The two hadn't been the best of friends, but this was a whole new level of not-cool that Jack had never anticipated from his roommate.

He didn't like it - not one bit.

"Daddy's gonna make you feel good, Jack," Mark whispered, pumping his fingers against Jack's prostate steadily - the younger boy letting out grunts in response. "Gonna open you up nice and wide. Fuck you deep and hard. It's gonna be so good, doll. So fucking good."

Jack couldn't even protest. The movement against his prostate was becoming a lot to handle, but before Jack could breathe out a word, Mark was pulling out his fingers. Jack felt empty, but he certainly didn't miss the feeling. He groaned, subconsciously rubbing his ass against the sheets - feeling a strange burning sensation that he figured was due to the discomfort. His eyes followed Mark's movements as the brunette took up the plug.

"What's that for?" Jack asked weakly. He was familiar with butt plugs, of course, but he was uncertain of Mark's intentions. 

The brunette smirked. "Gonna make you nice and sensitive for me. Make you cum, then play with you a little more. Lemme ask you a question, princess. How many times have you cum in one session?"

"Once," Jack muttered, embarrassed. He didn't like to think of the over stimulation that came with multiple orgasms. "I've never...never wanted more than that. It's...too much."

"Oh no, not too much at all."


	9. Glisten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise you guys, actual sex in the next chapter. I want a more suspenseful build-up here. We're in for the long run here, everyone. 
> 
> Chapter specific warnings this time include non-consensual just about everything - touching and forced orgasm, namely. Also, some knifeplay (with a small warning for blood), and forced body modification (nothing too severe; it's a haircut).

"You're taking this like a champ, Jack," Mark murmured against hot, sweating skin. Jack groaned, sending vibrations through both of their bodies. Mark purred, running his fingertips up and down the inside of the younger boy's thigh, watching him try to arch away. "I know you don't like to admit it, but damn. I think your ass was made for that plug, doll."

"Come on, Mark," Jack groaned, though his voice was growing consistently weaker. Mark could honestly get off on just watching the sight before him, and hearing the moans and whimpers from his roommate. The despair did nothing more than add fuel to the ever-growing fire of desire that Mark was feeling in the pit of his belly. He had to be patient, though. If he just jumped right in and fucked Jack, it wouldn't mean nearly as much as it did seeing him sweat with anticipation. It was a glorious sight. "Don't you think you've had...ugh...enough?"

Mark smirked and tapped his fingers against the base of the vibrating plug, watching Jack's back arch off the mattress. They were going to end up making a mess, but that was fine by Mark. It would just mean that they'd have to switch rooms, and lay down some towels in the future. In all of his preparation for this moment, it had totally slipped Mark's mind. He didn't care about making a mess. He just wanted to get to it - he had been waiting quite long enough. Weeks on end of just looking at Jack, not being able to touch...he had damn near lost his mind. 

There was something about Jack that made him irresistible - and that was not a word that Mark used lightly. Growing up privileged, he was used to getting anything and everything he wanted. He grew up spoiled. He knew very little people throughout the course of high school. The kids of the parents of Mark's adoptive parents were the only ones he knew. Wade Barnes and Bob Muyskens, his only and closest friends growing up, introduced him to a handful of girls that they knew from their public school. Everyone that Mark met told him that he was attractive, and several of them offered to perform sexual favors. This was never an offer that Mark turned down. So, to say that _he_  was used to being desired would be an understatement. 

Somehow, he found that Jack's resistance made the whole experience better. Watching an attractive young man wriggle and strain was much more enticing than perky blondes sucking him off in the back of a car. Mark always knew that he had a domineering personality, but it was the best in this context. Feeling like he was in complete, total control of Jack gave him a new, exhilarating feeling that he couldn't get enough of.

"Of course not, beautiful," Mark hummed, his nails digging into Jack's thighs and promptly dragging down - leaving long streaks of bright red on the Irishman's pale skin. Jack tensed, but he didn't make any noises. "This isn't any fun when you're not whining. I took out the gag. You could be making as much noise as you wanted, yet you choose to be silent. Boo."

Jack scowled, squirming. "Sorry that I'm being inconvenient for your sick fetishes." 

"You should be," Mark replied nonchalantly, before backing off - withdrawing himself from Jack to get off the bed and get to his feet. He wandered over to the other side of the room, to Jack's dresser, a wooden piece with a TV perched on top. He slid the top drawer out, and rifled through until he found a long, wool scarf. Not as sexy as a blindfold, he decided, but it would have to do. "You should learn now to cooperate with me, I'd say. I have every capability to make this pleasurable for the both of us, but I won't if you disobey."

"Disobey? What the hell do you think this is?"

Mark rolled his eyes, pushing the drawer back into place and going back to Jack's side. He stood at the head of the bed and leaned over, showing Jack his discovery. The younger boy looked at him, his eyebrows furrowing together, but he didn't breathe a word. 

"I think it's whatever the hell I want it to be," Mark said, leaning over. He slipped a hand under Jack's head, forcing it off the pillow. He used his other hand to snake the scarf over Jack's eyes, causing the younger boy to gasp in protest. Mark ignored it momentarily, and secured the scarf around the back of his head, tying it off tightly. He made a double knot, just in case Jack decided to get crafty, before letting his head drop back against the pillow. "So, again, you better be ready to listen."

Jack groaned, and squirmed again, clearly getting closer and closer to the edge. "Fuck sake, Mark. Take it out."

Mark sighed, and dropped to the floor. He found his discarded pair of jeans that he removed upon first coming into Jack's room, whilst the younger boy had been sleeping. He felt around in his pockets, before finding his switchblade. He flicked it open, revealing the blade that was no more than two inches. He carried it on him at all times for the sake of protection. He never had to use it, but his paranoia got the best of him sometimes. He stopped, briefly, to admire the way that the blade glistened on behalf of the dim light radiating off of the lamp. 

He got back up, and silently moved to sit on top of Jack this time. He sat himself right on Jack's cock, feeling the younger boy's rock hard erection. Jack let out a loud cry, clearly aggravated by the sudden pressure after having gone all this time without a single touch. That sound alone made it very tempting to remove the plug and fuck Jack raw, but it would have to wait. 

"Jack, let me phrase it this way so that you'll understand," Mark whispered, getting up into Jack's face - his hot breath right against Jack's lips. He pressed the very tip of the blade on the underside of Jack's chin, using it to tilt his head up. Feeling the cool metal touch his skin, Jack tensed immediately - undoubtedly, he could tell that it was a knife. "I'm in charge. You do not have any say, at all, about what we do here. It's completely up to me. I will do whatever I please to you and your body. I don't even need to tell you what I'll do if you don't. Trust me when I say that you do  _not_ want to know. I don't want to hurt you, but trust me, I will not hesitate."

A loud whimper escaped Jack's lips, and his hips rocked up, his cock rubbing against Mark's ass. Mark knew it was a move to struggle, but he rolled his hips, rubbing hard against Jack. With that very movement, he could feel the butt of his boxers get wet and sticky, compliments of Jack's cum. The younger boy's breathing was very labored and his cheeks were beginning to flush. He had an orgasm, and he was embarrassed. Mark could only feel pride. 

"Didn't think knives would be your thing," Mark whispered, and sat up straight again. He took the blade, pressing the tip of it into Jack's nipple and dragging it down, grazing it gently over his skin - nowhere near hard enough to break the skin. Jack was silent, but he was beginning to tremble. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, princess. I told you I could make you feel good."

"Y-you're not," Jack breathed, his voice but a mere whisper. He was terrified and quivering, his skin flushing deep pink all over. He was very clearly trying to retreat back into the mattress, to get away from the knife. Unsurprisingly, it wasn't working out well for him. "Mark,  _please_ take it out. I...I came. Please. The knife - I can't do that. Please."

Mark could oblige to at least one of these commands, he supposed. He temporarily removed the knife, in favor of twisting around. He took the base of the plug, and slowly pulled it out, admiring the way Jack immediately tensed back up. Only when it was out did he turn it off, and toss it to an obscure corner of the room. He wouldn't be utilizing it again until much later, anyway, and didn't feel like cleaning it off just yet. 

He turned back around, and placed the blade just over Jack's rib cage, gliding it over his skin very delicately. Jack let out a little whine, his toes curling. Mark made a mental note that Jack was ticklish, a fact that he would later use to his advantage. For the moment however, he moved the knife carefully to Jack's side, a fair bit of the way down from his armpit. Only there did he dare to dig the blade into Jack's skin and drag down, little droplets of red blossoming to the surface and instantly trickling down Jack's porcelain skin and down onto the sheets. Jack's breathing was unsteady as tears began to soak through his makeshift blindfold. 

"Please don't cut me, Mark," he managed, his chest starting to heave. "I...you can do anything you want. Please just...please don't do that."

Mark considered this for a moment, but decided that he was overstimulating Jack. The last thing he wanted was for his lover to have a panic attack. He took the knife from Jack's skin, and instead took a handful of Jack's hair. He tugged on it hard, causing Jack to yelp. 

"I guess I can manage that, since you were able to ask nicely for once," Mark mused, holding the blade up to the strand of hair that he held. It wasn't a particularly big chunk, but it was a lot of Jack's fluffy fringe that he didn't particularly care for. He preferred the appearance of shorter hair on boys. He didn't want Jack looking messy. "This is a perfect time to cut this mess off, instead."

Jack was shaking, his lower lip quivering. "Please, Mark...my hair..."

Mark hacked off the strand that he held, sawing at it with the blade, back and forth. He was pulling Jack's hair hard at this point, and the younger boy let out several noises and gasps of protest. The hair fell in a clump to the bed, in a choppy tuft. Mark frowned and brushed it off the bed, shaking out Jack's hair before picking out another strand of fringe, and repeating the process.

"We're not gonna chop off all of it," he assured Jack, pulling the hair taut. "Just this fringe. I think you'd look better without it. I like the green, though. We should really touch that up."

He was obsessed with Jack - with his body, with his hair, with everything. However, tweaks had to be made. He intended to tailor Jack in such a way to fit everything Mark could want out of him.

That all started with this. Mark liked to call it training. 


	10. Bare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The continuous support on this story has been incredible, you guys. And it's really been inspiring me to kick it into high gear and roll out more chapters for all of you. 
> 
> As I said in the previous chapter, this one will finally contain some actual sex. That in mind, the warnings for this chapter are as follows: rape, barebacking, biting, hair pulling, blood (tying into the biting thing), and non-consensual bondage. Again, pretty much non-con everything.
> 
> Happy reading!

"You truly are the most beautiful boy in the world," Mark whispered, and though Jack could not see him, he could definitely feel Mark's breath hitting his lips. The older boy's fingertips were grazing over the raised cuts on Jack's tender skin, irritating them and making them sting. He pressed his fingers in deep, causing Jack to bite his tongue in an attempt to hold back the whimpers that threatened to escape his throat. "Come on, now. You're gonna hurt yourself if you do that, princess."

Jack had to bite back a snicker, then. As if Mark cared about Jack hurting himself. He was doing plenty of that, so Jack had reason to believe that his roommate didn't give a damn about his physical or emotional well-being. After being cut, any hope that Mark might go a little easy on him flew right out the window. Jack thought, again, about screaming at the top of his lungs and getting caught. There were a few things stopping him. One, they were in a very compromising situation and he didn't want anyone to see his naked, bleeding, cum-covered body. Two, he feared that Mark would  _really_ hurt him if he called attention to them. Three, it was fucking college. People screamed in the middle of the night as they ran through the halls drunk. Even if it was against campus rules, no one seemed to even care. This was reason enough for Jack to believe that no one would take his cry for help seriously. 

"What are you thinking about, doll face?" Mark asked quietly, his hand roaming up Jack's body, his thumb resting against the Irishman's lower lip delicately. Jack was tempted to bite him, but he thought Mark's sadistic side might  _like_ that. He shuddered. "I don't like it when you're quiet, Jack."

Jack actually did snicker, then, and it was bitter. "You don't seem to like  _anything_ that I do. It confuses me as to why in the  _hell_ you're doing all of this."

"I didn't think I needed to explain again," Mark said flatly, though he did reach up and remove the makeshift blindfold. Immediately, Jack glanced down at his torso to see the damage. Luckily, the cut was shallow, and likely wouldn't scar. He wished he could see his hair, but he didn't have to look to know that Mark took off a decent amount. His head felt much lighter, and he had felt the light tufts on his skin as Mark was cutting them off. He must've cleaned them off at one point (and probably kept them too, knowing that fucking psycho). "You're my baby, Jack. You're everything I've wanted. I love seeing you like this."

Jack rolled his eyes so hard that it actually made them burn. "You could have pulled a stranger off the street, trussed them up like this, and gotten the same affect by molesting  _them_ _,_ so try that dumbass excuse again."

Mark arched an eyebrow, but he stayed dangerously silent. Jack smirked, realizing that he must've struck a nerve - Mark normally had some sort of retort for these remarks. However, he had a dangerous glint in his eyes. He reached over to the bedside table, and picked up the little, plastic container of lube. 

"You don't understand, Jack," he said quietly, as he popped the cap open. Instead of squirting it onto his fingers this time, he squirted a much smaller amount into the palm of his hand, and applied it liberally to his length. For the moment, Jack could do nothing but stare, and he hated that he couldn't tear his eyes away. "Since the moment we met, all I've wanted was you. I've never felt this strongly about anyone in my life. I don't feel anything for anyone else - nothing other than  _hatred._ This is what I want.  _You_ are what I want. You either go along with it willingly, or I will force you to. I've got you now, and there's no way in  _hell_ am I letting you get away."

Then, it was Jack's turn to stare. Wordlessly, he watched as Mark coated himself with lube. He knew what was coming, and though a ball of dread was beginning to form in the pit of his stomach, he couldn't even bring himself to speak. This was the first time ever that Jack felt truly out of control. The feeling of being drunk didn't even hold a candle to the feeling of being stripped, tied down, and waiting to be  _raped._

"Please be gentle, Mark," is what he was finally able to muster, giving one last desperate tug at the handcuffs. They wouldn't give. Mark wouldn't give. There was genuinely no way of getting out of this at this point. All he could do was lay back and let it happen, and he  _hated_ it. "I...I'm a virgin. I've never done...anything. Please just - please be careful."

With his clean hand, Mark cradled Jack's cheek, and stared him directly in the eyes (his own filled with something that, on anyone else, Jack could have called compassion). "Your first time should always be with someone that loves you, Jack. And I do."

There's one single, heavy heartbeat before it stills altogether and all Jack can feel is a heavy weight in his chest. All of a sudden the ringing deep in his ears is all he can hear, and all he wants to hear. It's overpowering. It scared him, but it doesn't scare him more than Mark does, so he tried to tune out. He tried to disassociate, to focus on the ringing and the feeling deep in his chest that refused to leave.

He couldn't. All Jack could be aware of was Mark. Mark's touch, his breathing, his scent - the sweat that made his hair stick to his fringe, the red-lipped pout that he's mastered. Some weird, fucked up part of Jack's brain thought that, if the circumstances were different, he might actually be turned on in that moment. He had always found Mark to be attractive, and right now, it was unfortunately no different. He still thought Mark was beautiful, but he couldn't think very highly of his older counterpart. He didn't see the same Mark that he used to. He didn't see the quiet and mysterious boy that had helped him move into his new bedroom, that was there for him on this weird journey. Mark had never been talkative, but he had been helpful. Maybe Jack never even knew him at all. Maybe all he knew was the facade that covered the demon that Mark  _actually_ was.

No normal person was capable of performing such a messed up feat. There was no way Mark was a normal person.

"It's in my nature to play rough," Mark murmured, and he leaned in close, his breath hot on the very nape of Jack's neck. Despite the warmth, he shivered. "I can't help it. You make me so fucking excited, Jack. Do you know what it's like to feel that strongly for someone? You're incredible. You can actually make me feel something."

Before Jack could even begin to open his mouth, he felt Mark's teeth sink  _deep_ into his neck. He gasped loudly, his back arching off the bed. Mark was giving him a  _hickey,_ and on a very high part of his neck. There was no way Jack would be able to cover it up, and he didn't feel like waltzing around with a big purple bruise on his neck (if that was even a possibility after all of this; Jack had no idea of what Mark's intentions were quite yet). He felt like a hickey was a whole new level of intimacy in this situation - Mark spoke a lot about Jack being  _his,_ but this definitely solidified that he meant it. 

Mark didn't stop at just the hickey. He bit down hard enough to break Jack's skin, and Jack could feel blood begin to trickle down his neck as Mark got increasingly sloppy with the kisses and nibbles. When the older boy pulled away, looking at Jack with nothing but pure lust and desire, his teeth were stained pink. Jack felt sick to his stomach - he felt like he was looking at some blood-thirsty animal, rather than an actual human. 

"I think you were prepped good enough," Mark murmured heavily, and Jack just couldn't stop looking at the blood on Mark's lips, on his chin. That was  _his blood._ Mark shifted down, so that he was lined up with Jack's entrance. "Need to take you, baby. Need it now."

Even if Jack could speak, he wouldn't have anything to say. He was fully aware of the fact that Mark had complete, total control of the situation. He knew that whether he liked it or not, Mark was going to fuck him. Tears welled up in his burning eyes, but he kept his lips pursed tight together. He was worried that if he tried to express his disinterest, Mark would just hurt him even worse. He was beginning to think that if he actually cooperated, maybe Mark would be a little easier on him.

He could only hope. 

Mark went in without bothering to put on a condom, and aside from immediately clenching up (his body trying to rid itself of the foreign object), Jack was disgusted. He didn't want to feel Mark, even if he was well lubricated. He didn't know if his roommate had ever been with anybody else, or if he carried any diseases. That thought, along with the realization that there was a  _cock_ inside of him, made him gag.

"God, Jack," Mark moaned out loud as he slid in deep, wasting no time in inserting his full length and rolling his hips. Feeling all sorts of exposed and gaping, Jack definitely couldn't see the pleasure in this. "You're so fucking tight. Love your virgin ass."

The tears spilled over then, as it occurred that, even though this was Jack's first time, it most definitely wasn't Mark's. He remembered the spiel he was given in health class in middle school. About sleeping with everyone that your partner has slept with. Felix had called it bullshit, but it was a thought that haunted Jack. He didn't even want to think about the things that Mark has done with other people. He had to wonder if he was the first person Mark had ever taken by force. 

Mark wiped away the tears with the pad of his thumb - using the hand that still had remnants of lube. "You don't need to cry, darling. Daddy knows what he's doing. Gonna make it feel so damn good. Gonna make you cum so hard. Would you like that, baby?"

Jack was confused, more than anything. He didn't get how, one second Mark could ridicule and hurt him - and the next, coddle him and call him pet names. If anything it just made him uncomfortable. And though Mark claimed to want to make him feel good, he was doing the exact opposite. It felt patronizing and weird, hearing these words slip from the mouth of the man who was currently in the process of raping him.

"Stop," Jack croaked, but if anything, Mark's moments only sped up. The horrifying sound of balls slapping against his ass made Jack choke back vomit. These were sounds that he had only ever heard in porn, and now that it was happening in real life - it was sickening. In theory, Jack had always liked the idea of sex, but now that he was experiencing it, all he wanted to do was curl up and die. Not existing altogether would surely be better than this. "Mark, please. It hurts. God, it fucking _hurts_." 

"Shhhh," Mark cooed, though the tone of his voice differed severely from his actions. He was going in with pounding movements, angling his thrusts so that each and every one of them was hitting Jack's prostate. It still didn't feel good, it felt raw and wrong, but Jack couldn't deny the warming sensation in his belly. He tried, over and over, to tell himself that it was just his body's natural reaction - but his own reassurances were doing him no good. He still felt sick. He felt betrayed by his own body for liking the stuff that this sick fuck was doing to him. "It hurts now, baby, but just think of how good you'll feel when you cum. Daddy can get you there."

Jack's cock was embarrassingly hard, and he actually groaned when Mark took a hold of it and began to jerk him off. He was already sensitive from his first orgasm. He was beginning to feel overstimulated, having never experienced the feeling of two orgasms in a row. He didn't want to. His brain knew how wrong and how sick this was; the alarms in his head were going off like crazy. However, it seemed to be a battle between Jack's brain and his dick, and there was a definite winner.

"Don't be embarrassed to cum, Jack," Mark continued with his soft, hazy voice. His movements were hard and unforgiving, his voice hot enough to melt ice. The tears were streaming without relent down Jack's face, jaw, and neck. Mark wasn't wiping them away anymore - his hand was busied with jerking Jack off, those movements slow and delicate. The combination of all the sensations that Jack felt was overwhelming. He was on the brink, and the way Mark was talking to him was definitely exciting his dick. He hated himself, hated his body, for finding any sort of pleasure in the current situation. "Daddy's already seen it. And don't worry about making a mess, princess. I'll clean you up. Take good care of you. Just like I always do."

Cumming was sudden, but not unexpected - and it happened with a loud cry. It was embarrassingly fast, and Mark seemed to be genuinely pleased with himself. However, even when Jack laid there panting, with warm cum covering both of their abdomens, Mark didn't stop. He continued to thrust, though the touch on Jack's cock was now absent. Instead, his hands were now on Jack's shoulders, holding them down - which was unnecessary, seeing as the cuffs were already restricting all of Jack's movements anyways. 

"Get out," Jack cried out loud, his voice heightening to what was almost a yell. He was sensitive, and he couldn't handle the continued movements. All pleasure gone, the only thing accompanying him now was pain. "Get out, Mark. Please."

Mark covered Jack's mouth with one hand, clamping down hard. Jack bit him, wanting to yell at him again, but Mark wouldn't budge. He bit harder, feeling the metallic taste of blood rush through his mouth, but the grip was still unrelenting. He cried out, though it was muffled, and began to thrash all around. He knew he wouldn't be escaping the bonds, but he wanted to make things as tough on Mark as possible, with the bleak hope that it would deter him from continuing. 

This was not the case, however. With his spare hand, Mark grabbed Jack's hair, gripping from the back and yanking his head back hard. Jack yelped, his movements stilling. He laid still as a plank, but even then, Mark didn't let go. He kept an iron grip on Jack's hair as his movements increased in speed and intensity. Jack was sobbing by this point, snot dripping from his nose, but he didn't care about his physical appearance at this point. All he wanted was for the stimulation to go away - totally convinced that, at this point, he was going to pass out from all the sensations. 

Before it could get to that point, however, Mark was cumming. He did so directly inside of Jack, and the feeling made him gag again. He choked back his vomit, needing to swallow due to the obstruction over his mouth. Mark let go of his hair first, and rode out his orgasm. Only then did he remove his hand from Jack's mouth, but the younger boy couldn't even think of yelling out anymore. All he could do was lay there and cry as Mark collapsed on top of him, panting. 

All he could feel was disgust. 


	11. Seeing Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter include but are not limited to: abuse, choking, suffocation, blood, and non-consensual basically everything.
> 
> Happy reading!

Once he was free from his bonds, Jack had a few options.

Option A was to run. Run far away from Mark and far away from the campus to spare himself the humiliation. He wanted to head for the hills, go back home - not home as in the city, home as in Ireland. College clearly wasn't for him. Less than a few weeks in, and he was raped by an obsessive roommate. To say that that would be an uncommon experience would be an understatement.

Option B was to fight Mark. To fight him, hurt him, beat him up - do  _something_ that would make Mark feel the exact pain he had put him through. This was the most unlikely plan to work, and Jack knew it. Mark and several pounds on him, and clearly wasn't afraid of hurting him. Jack knew himself enough to know that he would never hurt a fly, no matter what. So, no matter how much he wanted to smash Mark's face into the wall, he didn't. He couldn't.

Option C was to call campus security, or the police. Do the smart thing and get a rape kit, make sure Mark didn't give him any STI's. Charge Mark for assault and make him go to jail - there was plenty of evidence, after all. This would be the smartest option, and Jack was inclined to take it.

However, the second the restraints were lose, Mark was bringing Jack into his arms - carrying him very close to his chest. Jack thought about raising a leg, kicking him in the face, but he couldn't bring himself to move. Every single one of his muscles was crying out in dire pain. He was sore, covered in blood and cum - and more than anything, he was just  _embarrassed._ The full realization of the situation had yet to sink in, but Jack already felt sick to his stomach knowing that his estranged roommate had just forcibly taken his virginity without even batting an eye. To know that Mark didn't feel any remorse for his actions was absolutely sickening. Jack could never wrap his head around the way some people thought and acted like absolute savages.

He would never understood how one person could hurt another quite like that. 

Mark sat Jack down on the bathroom floor whilst he started up the bath. Curled up by the porcelain toilet, Jack could only watch helplessly - watch the muscles in Mark's back work quickly and calmly. Jack's chest was still heaving, some of his wounds were still bleeding, and there was a deep, burning pain in his ass. He had plenty of gay friends describe to him in the past about how the first time felt, and how painful it could be. Jack had always thought they were exaggerating until now. He wanted to stand to alleviate some of the pain, but his knees buckled every time he so much as tried to move. 

Mark didn't speak, and the silence in the room was eerie. No situation involving Mark could ever be calming. His silence was deadly and unpredictable. His soothing voice was eerie and insincere. When he tried to sound scary... _that_ was certainly no joke. He had successfully instilled fear in Jack, and on that fear alone, kept him from running and calling for help in that instance.

So, when he wouldn't speak, Jack had to. "...You don't have any diseases, do you?"

Mark actually laughed, but he didn't turn around. "After all that, that's the only thing you can think to ask?" Jack turned embarrassed, his face burning bright red, but he still awaited a response. "I'm not a virgin. I've been checked. I'm clean."

Jack absentmindedly scratched at his thigh, eyes darting around the room. "None of this makes sense, Mark. You're good looking, you're...you could go out and get anyone on campus. Why would you...?"

Mark shook his head, and approached Jack, laughing as the young boy tried to cower into the corner. He picked him up and set him in the bath, with the water still running. It was hot, but not unbearable, and an amplitude of bubbles were rising. Jack hadn't taken a bath since he was four years old, and he hated to admit that the hot water was immediately beginning to help his tensed up muscles. Mark withdrew his touch, but he knelt at the side of the bath, his arms folding over one another on the ledge. Jack tried to convince himself that Mark wasn't going to drown him.

"I thought we had been over this, doll," he whispered calmly. Sometimes his voice was so deep, so hypnotic, that Jack feared he could fall for its' tricks someday. He was scared of the power that he knew Mark had over him. " _You_ are all I want. I could care so much less for anyone else on this campus. Their existences mean nothing to me. No one's does."

Jack was curious. "But you hardly know me. Why are you so...?"

"Infatuated with you?" Mark finished. Jack's stomach rumbled with what he could only assume to be nausea, but he nodded his head. He needed some answers. "Good question. I'm not sure, but what I am sure of is that you are very important to me. Since the moment I met you I knew you were special, and I knew I wanted for you to be my boyfriend. For you to be something more than that."

Jack's eyebrows furrowed together. "Well, you know, most normal people just...ask people out. On dates."

"That's the easy way, yes," Mark tutted. Without warning, he stood up, pushed Jack forward, and stepped into the bath behind him. Once he was situated and sat down, he locked his arms around Jack's waist, pulling up the shorter boy so that he could sit in his lap. Jack gasped, out of pain and surprise. The touches were still unwarranted, but he knew it was just about useless to try and push Mark away. "I come from a very privileged upbringing, Jack. Maybe this is an...unconventional way of live for you. But I am very used to getting what I want, and with no questions asked. When I see something that I want, I take it. There is no question about it. It's not right or wrong...it just is. So when I wanted you, I took you, fair and square."

"Uh, that's not how it works in the real world," Jack protested, turning around in Mark's arms so that he could look into his deep brown eyes. "Maybe this is news to you, Mark, but I'm not an object. Nor am I just going to...submit to you, or whatever the fuck this is." He stood up, wriggling from Mark's grip the best that he could, and stepping out of the tub. "And, for your information, in the real world, what you did to me is called _rape_. It's illegal and I'm going to the police."

Before Jack could so much as blink, Mark was also on his feet. He grabbed Jack hard, with one hand, by the neck - and forcefully shoved his head into the back of the mirror, shattering it upon impact. Jack gasped in pain, seeing red spots in his vision as pieces of glass fell to the floor at his feet. Before he could regain his composure, he was pulled forward again, and smashed back into the same spot - blood dribbling from the open would on the back of his head, soaking his hair, and running down his bare skin. 

Standing in their pool of deep red blood, Mark closed both of his hands around Jack's throat, and squeezed. "You will do no such thing, Sean. Do you understand me? And if you even think about it...you don't want to _know_ the things I'll do."

Jack's eyes were turning almost as white as his pasty skin. Tiny red spots were beginning to blossom over his flushed cheeks. His lips were turning a shade of light blue as drool began pooling at the corner of his mouth, past his chin and down his chest. He raised his hands, trying to sink his nails into Mark's arms, but he wasn't able to scratch deeply enough to ward off the older boy, who's grip was unrelenting. Jack tried to open his mouth, tell him to back off, but short and choked gasps were the only thing escaping his throat. 

"Sean, are you understanding me?" Mark asked, but it was more like a growl. He was right up in Jack's face, his glare intimidating as ever. The only thing the younger boy could muster was a small, meek nod. Even then, Mark would not release him. "I have tabs on you, your friends...your entire _life_. I could hurt everything and everyone you love without even an ounce of hesitation. Think I'm lying, Sean?"

Jack was beginning to feel faint, and he shook his head roughly. Mark lifted him off the ground, his grip unrelenting. "I need you, Sean. I need you in my life more than I've ever needed anything." His voice was haunting as he gave the younger boy a shake, causing his legs to swing. Jack's throat was tight, and he couldn't even get in a whistle of air. "Stay with me, Sean. You have no choice."

All at once, Jack was dropped. Without Mark there to support him or hold him up, he completely crumpled to the floor, into the mess. He could feel bits of glass digging into his naked skin, but it was nothing in comparison to the restricted feeling of his chest. Spots danced in his vision as he curled into himself, his chest heaving as he attempted to take in deep breaths. He felt as though his heart was rattling. He knew he was bleeding, and saw Mark approaching him with a towel, but instead of cleaning up wounds, he focused on Jack's genitals and down his leg. Somewhere during loss of breathing, Jack had peed himself. 

"G-get off," Jack tried to muster, but Mark wasn't having it - he just continued to rub the towel gingerly up Jack's leg and his cock. Jack didn't want Mark touching any part of his body, but he was in no condition to try and fend him off right now. "Mark, stop...please just...please leave me alone. I-I can't breathe. You're only making it worse."

Mark stood, but only to help Jack to his feet. The younger boy stumbled, still not accustomed to being on his feet after the choking, but Mark kept his arm around his shoulders and steadily guided him to Mark's bedroom, bringing the towel with. He sat Jack down on the edge of bed, if only for a moment, before spreading the towel over the length of the bed. He then picked Jack up and laid him on top of it, so that he couldn't make a mess of the bed. Jack didn't protest any of these emotions, just laid in silence as Mark fiddled around in the drawers of his nightstand. He withdrew a small blue and white first-aid kid, and popped it open to reveal an array of bandages and ointments. Mark plucked out a small pair of blue-handled tweezers, leaning over Jack's limp body before picking up his arm and getting to work - plucking out small pieces of glass from the direction in which they entered. 

"I'm not a doctor," Mark murmured. Suddenly, it sounded as though he were an entirely different person. There was no feral growl. He sounded sweet and compassionate - as though the past few minutes hadn't even happened. The mood swings were enough to give Jack whiplash. "So I'm sorry if any of this hurts. Just...just try to relax. I'll try to be quick. Do you want some whiskey? It might help."

With every withdrawn piece of glass, Jack winced, but he wanted to vomit at the mere mention of alcohol. When he spoke, it was with a weak croak. "No...please just try to be quick."

With his free hand, Mark reached over to intertwine his and Jack's fingers. With every piece of glass plucked, Mark used a moist towelette to rub away the blood and kiss every laceration. Jack highly doubted Mark was following any sort of medical protocol, but he let it be - not that he had much of a say in the matter, anyhow. He just watched, and every now and then his and Mark's eyes would connect. In this instance, he was almost fooled into thinking that Mark actually cared for him.

"I don't like to hurt you Jack," Mark murmured, after all of the glass was out and sitting on the nightstand. He rose, and grabbed one of his plush, white robes from off the door hanger. It was too big on Jack, but it would be much easier than trying to get him into pajamas. To his surprise, the younger boy complied as Mark pushed his arms into the sleeves and tied it closed. "You have to believe me that that's not my intention. I want what's best for me and you, so if you could try to make that a little bit easier on me, I think we could have something really beautiful here...I'm tired. Spend the night with me."

Jack bit his lip, and stared at Mark as he withdrew a pair of handcuffs from his nightstand. Unlike the first pair, these were pink and padded. "...And what exactly are those for? I thought we were going to sleep."

Mark stepped behind Jack, seizing his arms behind his back and snapping the cuffs on. They were tight, but not uncomfortable - they didn't bite his wrists the way that the first ones did. Mark cleared the towel from the bed, and relaxed next to Jack on the bed. He took up the blankets, and covered both of their bodies with it. Mark turned Jack over onto his side, and snaked his arms around him from behind, arms locked tightly around his chest. 

"I'll never let you go, Jack."


	12. Every Breath You Take

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck at life and at updating and I apologize sincerely for that. My life has actually been insanely hectic, which is new, and I've been having a hard time coping with everything. 
> 
> With all of that out of the way though, thank you to everyone for the continuous support so far! Feedback has been overwhelmingly positive thus far and it really does inspire me to keep writing even when my circumstances are less than favorable.
> 
> The warnings for this chapter are pretty mild, being that the only real sexual stuff is sleep groping/grinding. Beyond that it's mostly just a look at Mark's thoughts and things of that nature. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Mark was unable to sleep.

It had taken awhile, but eventually Jack had fallen asleep - and whilst deep in the throes of slumber, has gotten himself turned around so that his face was pressed against Mark's chest. Watching him sleep was actually quite relaxing, Mark found. He definitely preferred Jack when he was calm and quiet. Everything about the Irish boy was absolutely fascinating, and though he couldn't explain why, Mark found himself becoming more and more attached to him with every passing second. He was overwhelmed with the desire to protect him. To hold him. To touch him everywhere and in every way. 

Nothing was stopping him from touching him however he pleased, which made the situation that much more enthralling. Having established the fact that he was in charge, no matter how badly he had to hurt Jack to obtain this feat, made him excited. He looked forward to the days to follow. He was developing a plan that he couldn't wait to put into place. It all centered around showing Jack, proving to him, that this was about control. Their relationship would be centered around the fact that Mark was in total control of whatever they did. He wasn't there to please Jack - Jack was there to please  _him._ That didn't mean that he couldn't give Jack mind-blowing, out of this world orgasms. It did mean, however, that every mean of obtaining them would be through anything Mark chose to initiate. If he wanted to fuck Jack and slap him until his skin was raw, he would. If he wanted to go slow, rock his hips into Jack while they showered together, he would. He would do anything he pleased to Jack, and if only for the sole fact that he just  _could._

Nothing was stopping him.

The thoughts racing through Mark's mind were making him excited, and he was becoming painfully hard. When Jack had finally gotten to sleep, Mark had opted to redress himself after their little scene. The tight fitting boxers had been a mistake, and he was painfully straining against the soft material. He had Jack right there, who could take care of every single need, but Mark held off on that thought. If these next few days were going to be as riveting as he hoped, he had to let Jack rest up. He didn't want the sex to be lackluster, after all - he needed some sort of energy, some sort of fight, to keep him enticed. 

That thought in mind, he slipped his own hand down the front of his boxers, and began to stroke himself. He was hard, though not leaking, and he knew he could get off on these sinful thoughts all on their own. No need for porn when you had the world's sexiest man lying asleep right beside you, after all. He knew nothing would ever satisfy him again the way that Jack did. Nothing that the Irishman did was perfect, not quite yet, but they could definitely work on it. After all, this whole situation was just further proof that there was no problem that Mark Fischbach could not fix. He got everything he wanted; Jack was walking proof of that statement. 

God, he wanted to touch him. Not even the skilled touch of his own hand was enough to soothe the ache. Surely he would be able to get himself off whilst Jack was asleep - he had done it before, after all. However, that was when the younger lad had been very inebriated. Even then, if he did wake up in the middle of all of this, there was nothing he could really do about it. He was totally at Mark's mercy, cuffed and trapped. 

That in mind, Mark rolled the sleeping boy over, so that he was facing the wall instead. He didn't so much as make a sound. Mark hoisted up the robe so that it sat bunched up at Jack's hips - he couldn't easily remove it without removing the cuffs, and he wasn't inclined to do so at the moment. He could deal with this positioning for the time being, with Jack's bare ass on display for him. He took a handful of it and squeezed, a strange sense of pride swelling up in his chest. That ass belonged to  _him._

With Jack not so much as stirring, Mark's window of opportunity was wide open. He pushed his own boxers off his hips, his erection springing to life as it was finally freed from the tight fabric. His boxers now sitting quite low on his thighs, he pressed up against Jack, his cock against his ass cheeks. Jack's skin was warm, and Mark groaned, pressing fully up against him - burying his face into the fabric of the robe, just between Jack's shoulder blades. He inhaled the warm, clean scent of the younger boy, and groaned out in pleasure. Just being pressed up against Jack made his stomach coil with warmth, and he began rolling his hips against Jack's ass, grinding into him.

"You're such a good boy," Mark murmured against the robe, though of course it fell upon deaf ears. It was in Mark's nature, however, to want to talk dirty to him whilst these thoughts occupied his mind. It was taking a lot to not wake up Jack and have the younger boy suck him dry - so he could run his hands through his hair and tell him how much of a slut he was. God, the temptation. "Lucky I love you, Jackaboy."

He did, which was simultaneously exciting and terrifying. The desire to fuck him raw, absolutely  _rail_ him, overtook all other feelings, though. He wanted Jack to be his boyfriend, that much was true, but the idea of spending their nights fucking was much more appealing than simply cuddling on the sofa, or whatever  _normal_ couples did. Mark was able to recognize the fact that their relationship was definitely not normal, but he way preferred it that way. It would have been less complicated if he had simply asked Jack out the traditional way, but it would have taken a whole lot longer to get to their current state of being. Mark wasn't willing to forsake the sex, but he was willing to work a little harder to get his way. 

He was certain that, in time, Jack would get more used to this idea. He had to be. If he wanted anything that came out of this to be any degree of pleasurable, he would have to learn to accept it. Mark would have no problem making him feel good, and he supposed he could learn to adapt to the idea of pleasuring Jack in the ways that he desired, so long as it would keep the both of them satisfied. 

That's what boyfriends did, right?


	13. Privilege

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck at updating, and I actually really apologize for this. I've struggled with this chapter for awhile now, but I finally managed to spit out what I was trying to say. 
> 
> Whilst reading, try to keep in mind that what might seem like a good idea to Mark is certainly NOT a good idea, because his brain is a...concerning place, to say the least. He's designed to be emotionally manipulative, and sees no plot holes in what he's planning because, well, he TOTALLY knows what he's doing. Totally. Naturally. 
> 
> (He doesn't at all. You lot are thinking of this a lot more logically.)
> 
> Anyways, with all of that nonsense out of the way - warnings for this chapter are a little mild in comparison to the last few. Really it's just non-consensual touching, but the things that are said/done are a little, or a lot, disturbing. Very controlling. Very weird. Typical Mark. 
> 
> Enjoy! I appreciate the continued support. :)

Jack had expected university to be the best experience of his life. The reality of the situation was, in fact, that he was entirely wrong. From the very first day, he had come to realize that the impending year was going to be nothing but a disaster. He hadn't figured exactly _how_ , but his current situation was actually about the last thing he had been anticipating. 

The hope that college would be good for him flew straight out the window before the academic year had even started. Apparently the website had stated that living on campus for the first year was non-debatable. Jack had never seen this with his own two eyes, so it was a shock when he found out he would have to spend the whole year with some stranger. He had hoped that he and Felix could live comfortably in an apartment close to campus, but he was instead forcibly torn from his best friend. Only for a year, Felix had been insistent, but he was definitely happier than Jack about their living arrangements, and rightfully so, because Felix's roommate wasn't some sick pervert. 

The first day they moved in, Felix didn't even bother sticking around long enough to help Jack unload. No, that had been Mark's job - and at first, Jack had been mistakenly swayed by his handsome roommate. Mark actually seemed ideal. He was good looking, both in the face and everywhere else (those toned, tanned limbs are what Jack thought about at night, most of the time), and he was quiet. He didn't pry. He didn't ask questions beyond wanting to know Jack's name and where he was from. He didn't seem overtly concerned when Jack started having meltdowns the very first night - crying into a mug of tea over how scared he was to face something totally new entirely by himself.

Maybe he had been too open, too vulnerable.

Regardless, Mark kept his distance that night. He assured Jack, from the safety of the other side of the couch, that there truly wasn't anything to fear. College would be a good experience. There was a lot of opportunities to meet new people, do new things. The concept of change didn't necessarily have to be scary - sure, he was nervous too, but was trying to focus on the positives of the situation. 

Even from then on, the two didn't engage in much conversation. Mark didn't do much conversing, but he was a hell of a good listener when Jack cared to spill his heart on any given day. He gave away about himself everything that Jack already knew - his name was Mark Fischbach, he was born in Hawaii, and he liked to play football. He gave away very little about himself and about his personal life, which was fine. Jack didn't necessarily want to shout his past from the rooftops, either, so he felt it wasn't his place to pry. 

You didn't have to know the full story, however, to realize that something was off about Mark. Just small, general things could speak volumes. He was quiet, stoic, sometimes abrasive. He was tense more often than not. He simmered down greatly when Jack was about, but being around other people seemed to really put him off. He didn't take kindly to Felix at all, which was fair enough (the first experience he had with Felix is when the blond threw up all over their apartment before passing out in the bathtub). He didn't take kindly to any of the friends that Jack made, and Jack never saw him bring people of his own around. Jack had people in his classes, both males and females, who knew Mark and thought he was good looking, so Jack was surprised that he didn't even have a  _companion,_ if you will. He also found it strange that Mark never even brought his football buddies around. 

Pieces of the puzzle were starting to fit together, now that Jack was raw in the ass and in the arms of a man who had just taken his virginity. No wonder Mark didn't get along with people. No wonder he didn't care to talk about his past. Whatever he had gone through had to have been damaging - normal people didn't do this sort of thing. 

Jack realized, certainly not for the first time, that Mark was about the farthest thing from a normal human being that you could be. He seemed more like some sort of bloodthirsty animal than anything else. Something that ran purely off of lust. 

That was the thought in his mind when he realized, upon his awakening, he was being dry humped from behind. Briefly, he thought to act as though he were still asleep - thinking that he wouldn't be asked to reciprocate if Mark thought he was unresponsive. Jack was terrible at faking, however. His body was tensing up the moment he felt what Mark was doing. 

"Go back to bed," was the gruff command. One arm was wrapped securely around his waist, hand resting flat against his stomach. The other, as he spoke, he moved up to Jack's hair, calmly smoothing it out. Jack was concerned momentarily about the lack of weight upon his head, but it didn't take long to remember why it felt just that much lighter. He couldn't mourn the loss of his hair for too long, however - more important matters were on his mind. "Baby, relax. I can finish myself."

Jack shivered, his voice coming out considerably hoarse, which was also understandable. "What time is it?"

He was only minutely concerned about what time it was. More than anything, the fact that he was in considerable amounts of pain is what was currently overtaking all other thoughts. He felt the sting of last night's wounds as the scabs rubbed uncomfortably against the plush robe. He could practically feel his bones creaking, in the discomfort of having had his arms forced behind his back all night, and having to lay on his side. If he could call himself thankful, he was for the padded cuffs - he knew the metal would have been tearing his wrists apart by this point. 

Oh, and the searing ass pain. That was definitely still there. And Jack  _definitely_ had to piss.

"Quarter past five," was Mark's calm response, though he was still rutting his hips. All at once, Jack felt a wave of nausea hit, and he momentarily feared that if Mark didn't let him up, he might spew all over the bed. Not that he was overly concerned about Mark's bed. "Now, can you please be quiet, babe? I'm so fucking close."

"Mark, I have classes. And so do you," Jack stated, though mostly for the excuse. Not that he thought his roommate would be swayed. "And it's not like people wouldn't _notice_ if we were gone."

The hand that was in Jack's hair was promptly placed over his mouth, and hard - hard enough to make his head tip back and Mark's nails dug into his cheek, sure to leave noticeable indents. "Did I not say to be quiet?"

Forced to be silent for the time being, the best Jack could muster was a loud groan as he did his best to lay still and be compliant. He didn't have much choice in the matter, either way, so he figured that the sooner Mark was able to finish, the sooner he would be able to get up. However, it was easier said than done. It wasn't necessarily comfortable to lay there with a full bladder and feel hips rut into his ass, after all. Mark was making no other advances however, and left Jack mostly untouched, so he was grateful for that, at least.

He laid as still as possible, not wanting to give Mark the notion that he was any sort of responsive to what was happening. He was also quiet for the most part, save for a few groans that were more from the pain than anything else. The discomfort was shifting into general cramping, as he desired to get up and bolt for the bathroom - and if he had any control over his movements, he would have. 

Mark finished quickly enough, streaks of cum covering the robe as he let out a decently loud moan, his nails digging into Jack's skin harshly - causing thin crescents of blood to rise to the surface. Even after his orgasm, he didn't seem inclined to let Jack up. He just continued to lie there, breathing labored. His hand dropped from Jack's mouth, final falling to wrap around his waist, putting an ungodly amount pressure against the younger boy's bladder. 

"Mark," Jack said finally, gingerly. He spoke slowly, nearly afraid of the response, but he was determined. "I'm going to explode if you don't let me up. Like, right now."

Mark sighed, clearly bothered. However, he leaned over and very slowly unlocked the cuffs from Jack's tender wrists. The younger boy immediately swung his legs over the edge of the bed, feeling a deep pain burning within him as he did so, and started to get to his feet. Before he could even bring himself to stand up, however, his arm was seized - a tight grip on his upper bicep. 

"Slow down," Mark commanded, sitting up. "I can't move that fast that soon after-,"

"Mark," Jack interrupted impatiently, feeling the need to  _go_ continue to increase. He didn't need a repeat of pissing all over himself. "You don't need to come to the bathroom with me. I'm aware of where it is, and how to use it."

Mark arched an eyebrow, though Jack was sure it was out of irritation, not so much inquisition. "Maybe don't interrupt me, first of all. Second of all, as if I would let you out of my sight. You'd just run off, or do something else equally as stupid."

Jack stared at him, stunned. "Well, you're sure as hell not going to stand there and watch me piss."

"Sure I am. How else would I know what you were doing?"

" _What_ would I be doing in the fucking bathroom other than, you know, _using it_?"

"I don't know," Mark snapped, impatient. He stood up, his grip like iron on Jack's arm, sure to cause at least some mild bruising. When he was so quick to stand, it forced Jack to stand up with him. "But I'm not going to take my chances. You're going with me, or you're going to sit there and piss yourself. Your choice. You're being so fucking difficult today."

It genuinely hadn't occurred to Jack how trapped he was until even his bathroom privileges were stripped. It succeeded in bringing in a whole new level of terror, that much was for certain; so if Mark had been trying to scare him, which was certainly probable, it was definitely working.

As far as being difficult went, who wouldn't be, in this scenario?

"Fine," Jack managed to grit out, trying to relinquish control of his own arm. Instead, he felt a pop from deep inside of his socket, making him gasp in pain. Mark still wasn't letting go. Jack groaned in defeat, but started towards the bathroom - if he put it off any longer, he _would_ explode. "Just...don't fucking  _watch._ "

Mark laughed, though there wasn't a whole ton of humor in the short bark. "As if I haven't seen your dick before. Or even seen you-,"

"If this is some sort of sick fetish, don't expect me to play along."

"Could've sworn we just talked about interrupting," Mark deadpanned, releasing Jack's arm only once they were in the doorway of the bathroom. Sure enough, his eyes were still watching the Irishman like a hawk. He was a fucking predator. "Also, it's not. I just don't trust you."

As if Jack were the one who couldn't be trusted, all things considered. Figures. 

"I could say the same for you, you know."

Mark was still watching, eyes hard, as he advanced towards Jack, leaning up against the sink - though, thankfully, he kept his hands to himself. His movements were slow and deliberate. "Probably best that. Trust me when I tell you that you're in for a hell of a ride, though, baby boy."

"Could have guessed that much," Jack murmured after flushing. He sidestepped Mark to access the sink and wash his hands. Mark moved behind him, and pressed up against him - stark naked against the plush robe. It was a bit of a lean, but he pressed his face into Jack's shoulder, his arms snaking carefully around his waist. "Your mood swings give me whiplash." Mark only hummed upon being told this, lifting his head to kiss at Jack's neck gingerly. Jack felt sick. "Am I overstepping your sudden kindness if I ask you for a shower? I feel dirty. Wonder why."

"Although I don't care for your newfound snark, sure," Mark said, loosening his grip. He looked up, and in the mirror, his eyes met Jack's. "I've always wanted to have sex in the shower, anyways. You won't be getting out of your punishment, but it can wait. We have all the time in the world."

Ice coated Jack's stomach at the word  _punishment,_ that seemed to roll of the older boy's tongue with ease. "I don't necessarily understand what it is you're trying to achieve here, Mark. People are going to  _notice_ when we don't come to class."

"See, Jack, your problem is that you don't know how to live in the moment," Mark murmured, and spun Jack around, pressing him against the sink. He stripped him of the bathrobe, and let it crumple to the ground around their feet. "Let me handle all of that when it's time to worry about it. For now, just  _enjoy,_ got it? I know what I'm doing, babe."

_Great._

"I'll bet you do."


End file.
